


gardens /'gärd(ə)n/

by redskiesandsailboats



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, But only if you squint, Car Accidents, Corn Mazes, F/F, F/M, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda?, M/M, Minyard-Josten Rivalry, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, accidental murder, and it depends on the phase of the moon, background Renison - Freeform, background jerejean - Freeform, background kevaaron, band fic but the nerdy kind, bc i can, but more like happiness then angst and then happiness again, but not??, let Andrew smile fight me, there's football not exy im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redskiesandsailboats/pseuds/redskiesandsailboats
Summary: “Andrew,” Renee said, and Andrew allowed himself to lean on her for a split second, only long enough to find his balance. She didn’t waver. “Your nose is bleeding,” she whispered, so he brought a hand up to his face, resisting the urge to lick his lips. His blood was warm against his fingertips.It felt like his nose was broken.“Shit,” Neil said again, and Andrew looked up just in time to see an overwhelming amount of dizzying blue eyes and dark auburn curls. He shut his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again, Neil was still there, vivid and concerned as ever. "Oh god, you're bleeding everywhere."Andrew spit into the grass at his feet, the taste of copper on his tongue, and said, simply, "Fuck you."(Or, the one in which Neil is in color guard, Andrew is in drum line, and everyone thinks they hate each other because everyone is literally blind.)
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Andrew Minyard & Renee Walker, Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, Kevin Day/Aaron Minyard, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten & Allison Reynolds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 225
Kudos: 569





	1. door /'dôr/

**Author's Note:**

  * For [this_little_lighthouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_little_lighthouse/gifts).



> Thanks for the great idea at band camp when we turned to each other and were like, omg Kevin would totally play trumpet, bc he's actually insufferable. (No offense to any trumpet players. Or Kevin. I promise I love you guys.) Also, this is proof that aftg has literally consumed my life. I can't do anything without thinking about how the foxes would do it. 
> 
> Anyways. 
> 
> I do have all of this written, I just need to go through it with my beta, so I'll be posting probably every day until it's over. Probably. I'll also have tw before each chapter, so please let me know if I have missed anything. 
> 
> TW: a bloody nose. yeah that's it. idk

Andrew 

Andrew stood on the crumbling porch of his house, pressing the doorbell as many times as possible, as fast as possible. The sticky August heat curled around him, mocking him with the knowledge that he would have to spend the next eight hours of every day for two weeks melting in the sun at band camp. It almost made him want to forgo his usual black attire. Almost. 

“Jesus, Mary, fuck, Andrew,” Aaron said, ripping open the door with his trombone case in one hand and a drawstring bag in the other. “I’m coming, calm down.”

Andrew pressed the doorbell one more time. Aaron flipped him off. 

And thus, the day started. 

The ride to band camp was uneventful, and spent in silence. Halfway through, Andrew pulled a strawberry sucker out of one of the cup holders, where he kept a stash, and popped it into his mouth. Aaron took one for later.

This was the game they played, the dance they did: stepping around each other, carefully at first, one always behind the other, one to lead and one to follow. As time went on, they continued to do the same thing. They hit roadblocks but didn’t talk to each other. They had nightmares, but kept them to themselves. They had grown up as simply two halves, not two halves of one whole, and they didn’t quite know how to mend themselves yet. After all, they had only just met, truly, two years ago, when Andrew came to live with Aaron and Tilda in the middle of sophomore year. So they played, tentatively, at being brothers, holding their breath along the way, lest they break each other to pieces. 

It was worth it, to Andrew. Every second. 

"Kevin says we're late," Aaron told him, tapping away at his phone screen. He had Tilda's crappy old iPhone, and he never went anywhere without it. 

"And who's fault is that?" Andrew asked blandly, turning into the school parking lot, only to slam on his breaks as a violently red Toyota pulled out into front of him. He leaned on the horn and only caught a middle finger extended out the driver window before the car sped away. 

"Kevin says that maybe you should try putting in some effort this year, because it is, in fact, your senior year," Aaron said, unaffected and already typing out a response. 

"Tell Kevin to fuck off," Andrew said. 

Aaron hummed in affirmation. 

Walking into the school building in the middle of August, what was supposed to be their summer break, was a special type of torture. 

Aaron and Andrew let out identical sighs before entering the band room that neither of them acknowledged. 

The band room was, as always, pure chaos. 

The little freshmen sat in their chairs, dutifully getting out their instruments and looking around with wide eyes. The sophomores and juniors stood in clumps, talking over one another like they hadn't seen each other for years. Some had taken up a game of ninja in the low brass section. Andrew thought he saw a tennis ball being lobbed across the room, never truly making it to it's target. Band kids could not throw to save their lives. Or catch, for that matter. 

Under it all, Africa by Toto was being played softly, a true band camp welcome. 

Andrew wanted to leave. 

Wymack, their band director, entered the room with his usual scowl in place, walking through the chaos like he didn't see it, neatly snatching a flying tennis ball out of the air and throwing it in the trash can in the same movement. Several people cheered. 

"Hello, Andrew," a voice said, over his shoulder. He turned, slowly, to find Renee smiling kindly at him, like she always did. 

She had been able to sneak up on him exactly once. 

They had made it into a game, of sorts. Who could sneak up on who and actually startle them. 

Andrew was winning. 

By two points, but still. 

He acknowledged her with a nod, raising an eyebrow at her hair, which, the last time he had seen her, had been her natural, glossy black. Now it was a startling, platinum blonde, and chopped to her shoulders. 

"It was time for a change," Renee explained, catching his look. She tucked a lock behind her ear, and Andrew was struck by how right it looked. 

He tipped his head to the side, studying her, and she let him. When he finally nodded, she gave him a blinding smile. That too, looked right on her. 

"Are you ready?" She asked, leading the way to the percussion section and finding her quads. Andrew took his place by his beat up, beloved snare. His name was Hector. Not that he would tell anyone, ever. 

"Nope," Andrew replied, popping the 'p' at the end and picking up his drum sticks. Renee laughed, and then Wymack got up on his podium and started shouting orders in his best band director voice. 

It was going to be a long season. 

They started the day as usual, with fundamentals for literal hours and then the horrible ordeal of passing out drill tickets and trying to teach the newbies how to do anything and everything. Andrew purposefully avoided everyone who was not Renee, unwilling to add to the headache he already had. He had gotten a very minimal amount of sleep the night before, as always.

Most of the morning passed in a blur of Andrew trying his best to ignore everyone, including and especially his cousin Nicky, who thought it was his life's purpose to make Andrew miserable. 

"Andrew," Nicky said, wafting over during one of their breaks, his curly hair pulled up into two ridiculous pigtails for reasons Andrew could not begin fathom. "Were you here early this morning?" Nicky asked, and then laughed at himself, "What am I saying? You're Andrew." 

"I literally don't know you," Andrew said, attempting to lose Nicky in a crowd of freshmen on the way outside, but only succeeding in trapping himself. 

"Hmm, nice try," Nicky said cheerfully. "I'm your cousin. Anyway, if you were here this morning, you definitely would have seen the new kid." 

"Stop talking to me." 

"There is no way you could have missed him, seriously. I nearly fainted." Nicky reached out to sling an arm around Andrew's shoulder, but Andrew ducked out of reach, and Nicky almost fell over instead. "Unfortunately, he seems to have disappeared," Nicky continued, straightening like nothing had happened. 

"Tragic," Andrew muttered, stepping out into the aggressive sunlight and squinting his eyes against the glare. Nicky prattled on behind him, moving on from the new kid to his upcoming exchange semester in Germany that he had finally convinced his father to let him go on. 

Andrew tuned him out to white noise, focusing on the ground in front of him and wishing the sun would hide behind the clouds, just for a moment. 

He was so focused on his feet, that he didn't see the other person come flying at him until it was too late. They collided with not much force, but the shock of it, the sudden contact, the unknown assailant, made Andrew's reflexes override everything else. Between one second and the next, he had the other person's arm twisted behind him and up, until he was doubled over to keep from dislocating his shoulder. 

"Andrew, oh my god!" Nicky yelled. 

Just then, the boy went completely limp, and Andrew had to let go to keep them both from falling flat on their faces. The boy tucked in on himself and just as quickly as he fell, he was on his feet, several steps away, on the defensive. 

For a moment, they stared at each other, and all he could see was the boy's disarmingly blue eyes, and then Allison was there, inserting herself between them, Renee not far behind. 

"What is going on?" Allison demanded, every inch of her in its place, immaculate. Andrew couldn't decide if he couldn't stand her, or respected her for it. "Neil, are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," the boy- Neil- said, eyeing Andrew warily. He had a nice voice, which was an absurd thing to notice, seeing as he had only spoken two words, but it was nice all the same. Andrew’s brain was going in a million different directions at once. 

"Andrew," Allison said, whirling on him, and he didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. "What the fuck?" 

When all she got was a blank stare, she turned on Renee. 

"Tell him to apologize," she said, pointing at Andrew like he wasn't standing right there. Her nails were painted a bright, bloody red. 

"Andrew," Renee said pointedly, shifting Andrew’s focus to her, after raising an eyebrow at Allison. "Are you alright?" Allison scoffed. 

Andrew took a deep breath, taking in her question and turning it over and over and over in his head. He was very aware of all of them watching him, very aware of Neil’s blue eyes, studying him. Andrew met Renee’s eyes and inclined his head, ever so slightly. Renee smiled. 

"Good," she said, turning back to Allison. "Now, I think our fifteen minute break is about up, don't you?"

Allison opened her mouth to protest, but Neil cut her off with a hand to her shoulder. 

"It's fine, Alli," he said, pasting a smile on his face that Andrew didn't believe for a second. That was when he caught sight of what looked like small, circle burn scars across Neil's knuckles. "Really. It's fine." 

Intriguing. 

Allison didn't look happy about it, but she let Neil drag her back to where the other members of the color guard were flinging their flags in the air like they couldn't kill someone with one good hit. 

Andrew had to tear his eyes away from Neil's retreating form. 

"What the fuck, Andrew?" Nicky asked, apparently still there. "That was the new kid I was talking about." 

What the fuck indeed.

Andrew took another deep breath, shaking out his hands, itching to stick a finger under his armbands, but refraining. 

"Oh," he said, his voice blank and dry and brittle. He hated surprises. He really, really hated surprises. 

He thought about Renee’s question again, and decided that with the other two gone, he might just answer it differently, if anyone were to bother to ask. 

Somewhere, in the very back of his memory, a door swung open, silently. 

Andrew turned on his heel and walked away. 

He could hear Renee say something to Nicky and then start following him, but he didn't care. 

The thing about doors, metaphorical or imagined or even remembered, was that, once opened, it was difficult to close them. Doors let things in that one would rather not have, and let things out that one would rather not lose. 

The thing about Andrew's doors, metaphorical or imagined, or even and especially remembered, was they always seemed to let more in than they let out. Nothing escaped the trap that was his mind, so he was simply full to the brim, the wrong shape for his own skin. He carried everything on his shoulders, like Atlas lifting up the sky, and he didn't know how much more he could bear. 

So he walked away, focusing on the heat and the scattered laughter around him, and wished for all he was worth that he had locks for all the doors in his head. 

The next day, Andrew walked into the school ahead of Neil and let the door slam in his face. It wasn’t really intentional, but he also didn’t try to stop it. 

The day after that, Neil walked up to Andrew and Renee during one of their breaks, asking where Allison was. Andrew pointedly ignored him. Renee told him that she didn’t know, but then Allison appeared over her shoulder, wrapping her arms around Renee from the back, so Andrew walked away from them. 

All throughout the next two weeks, Andrew did all that he could to avoid Neil Josten; he had yet to even speak a word to him. 

He didn’t know exactly why. 

Okay, maybe he did know why. 

Something was not right about Neil Josten. Something didn’t add up. 

He was interesting, and Andrew knew that if he let himself even talk to Neil, he would never be able to walk away. 

Neil had purposeful, meticulous burn scars on the backs of his hands, like someone had taken a cigarette or a lighter and methodically pressed it into his skin, and yet he smiled like he had never known pain in his life. 

His voice was open and friendly, but he had a strange, almost indistinguishable accent that marked him as someone who did not grow up on the east coast, maybe not even in the United States, and while he sounded willing to talk about anything and everything, his answers were vague and his eyes were guarded. 

He was a parcel of contradictions with red hair and freckles like constellations across his nose, and maybe Andrew was avoiding him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention.

“You have not said a word to Neil,” Renee observed one day, when it was just the two of them, outside under one of the pine trees, eating their contraband McDonald's Andrew snuck out to get for them. 

“I don’t usually say anything to anyone,” Andrew reminded her, eating a handful of french fries and wishing he had gotten himself a frosty from Wendy's while he was out to dip them in.

“I think this is different,” Renee said. “This is purposeful.”

“I am always purposeful,” Andrew protested, but Renee just smiled like she knew something he didn’t. 

She didn’t say anything else, but Andrew still felt the need to defend himself. 

“He’s trouble,” he insisted, eating more french fries. “I don’t need more trouble in my life.”

“Ah,” Renee said. “I see.”

“Good.”

“Let me know how that works out for you.”

“What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Andrew asked, as blandly as he could, but Renee just laughed and stood, collecting her trash to throw away. 

“Oh, nothing,” she said with an innocence that Andrew didn’t believe for a second. “Nothing at all. Ignore me.”

“That can be arranged.” 

“Okay, fine, don’t ignore me,” Renee laughed, leading the way back inside. “Where would we be without each other?”

Andrew didn’t answer her. He didn’t have to. They both knew. 

He was just about to say something else, something to make her laugh again, but then Allison came up to hook an arm around Renee’s as they made their way to the trash cans, and he lost his chance. 

He didn’t even wait for Neil to come join them, trailing after Allison like he always seemed to be, he just started to the band room on his own, ignoring Renee’s knowing look as he went. 

+++

The last Monday of the last week of band camp started with an unexpected downpour during fundamentals, during which complete chaos ensued as students fought to get into the school building first. 

Everyone was soaked by the time they all made it inside, and since the air conditioning was on full blast, everyone was shivering within moments. 

The next two hours were miserable, and once they were finally able to go back outside again, after the rain let up, it was almost time for lunch. Almost, but not quite.

Andrew stepped into the sunlight and was promptly blinded, his already short temper fraying at the edges.

Once he was able to see again, Andrew spotted Renee over by Allison and the rest of the color guard, and having forgotten to check the exact time when he was inside, he decided to go over and ask her. He needed to know how soon he could escape to the nearest fast food restaurant for lunch. 

Allison saw him first and gave him a decidedly not nice smile, saying something to Renee that Andrew didn’t hear, nor did he want to. Renee turned and gave him a much kinder smile, not that he cared. 

“Time?” he asked, before she could say anything. 

“Eleven fifteen,” she replied easily. Allison rolled her eyes behind Renee, but Andrew didn’t acknowledge her. 

Andrew nodded at Renee in thanks, sighing internally. Eleven thirty seemed like forever away. 

He turned away to head towards his drum where it was resting in the shade, not really paying attention to anything around him, which was his first mistake. His second mistake was pausing when Renee shouted his name from behind him, and the next thing he knew, pain was blooming across his face, sharp enough to have him doubling over and screwing his eyes shut. 

“Shit!” someone shouted. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” The voice was getting closer, materializing to become Neil’s voice, and Andrew really didn’t want anyone touching him, so he straightened, only to have the world tilt at an alarming angle. 

Suddenly Renee was beside him, a concerned look on her face. “Andrew,” she said, and Andrew allowed himself to lean on her for a split second, only long enough to find his balance. She didn’t waver. “Your nose is bleeding,” she whispered, so he brought a hand up to his face, resisting the urge to lick his lips. His blood was warm against his fingertips. 

It felt like his nose was broken.

“Shit,” Neil said again, and Andrew looked up just in time to see an overwhelming amount of dizzying blue eyes and dark auburn curls. He shut his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again, Neil was still there, vivid and concerned as ever. "Oh god, you're bleeding everywhere." 

Andrew spit into the grass at his feet, the taste of copper on his tongue, and said, simply, "Fuck you." 

Neil had the audacity to smile, an action that completely changed his face in way too many distracting ways, like he knew Andrew had been trying so hard not to talk to him, and had broken his streak. "Maybe later," Neil said, and Andrew stopped breathing for a moment. "Right now, you need a band aid." 

Andrew glared at him, which only made him smile more, and abruptly, Andrew hated him. 

"Andrew," Renee said gently, "why don't you go inside and get cleaned up. I'll tell Wymack what happened." 

"I'll go with him," Neil volunteered quickly, following Andrew before he could protest. "To make sure you don't pass out from the blood loss." 

Andrew wanted to strangle him.

He didn’t know what to do about Neil running into the band room ahead of him to grab an unnecessary amount of tissues, or holding open the bathroom door for him, so he didn’t do anything, ignoring Neil like he had been doing all of band camp. 

Once he was able to press a bunch of paper towels to stop the blood, he checked his nose, relieved to find it was not, in fact, broken.

After a minute or so, the bleeding stopped, and he was able to wash most of the blood away. His shirt was completely ruined, but you couldn't really tell because it was black. He checked his armbands but found them clean, then looked up and caught sight of Neil in the mirror, leaning against the far wall and watching him. 

"What are you still doing here?" Andrew asked, he face carefully blank, once again, loathing to acknowledge him for the sole reason that he knew, deep down, if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

"Making sure you don't pass out," Neil repeated, from before, meeting his gaze in the mirror and smirking. Andrew fought to keep his face still, several reactions blooming in his lungs like flowers, unwanted and hazardous. 

Damn those blue eyes.

"Do I look like I'm about to pass out?" Andrew asked. 

Neil tipped his head, considering, a playful twist to his lips, and Andrew wanted to strangle him, to carve the look off his face, anything. "You are very pale," he said. 

Andrew pushed off the edge of the sink abruptly, walking out of the bathroom and ignoring Neil’s laughter behind him. 

+++

Almost an entire week passed before he spoke with Neil again. This time, it was in the parking lot, after most of the students had left for the day, glad to be released from the weekend. Nicky and Aaron had caught a ride home with Kevin, so Andrew was alone. 

"Apparently we hate each other," Neil's voice informed him, and he turned to find Neil leaning on the hood of a very beat up, bright red Toyota. Andrew paused with the door of his own fixed up bucket of rust halfway open. He hated his car with all of his being, but he decided he might actually hate Neil’s car more. 

"Do we now?" he asked, refusing to allow inflection to creep into his voice. 

Neil smirked at him. "Yup. I made you bleed, so now you have to hate me forever." 

"Maybe I do hate you." 

Neil shrugged. "That's fine." He placed an elbow on the hood of his offensive car and leaned his chin on his hand, looking far too content. "We can be enemies. I don't care." 

Andrew just looked at him. 

“Unless,” Neil continued, “you’re avoiding me for a reason?” 

“Who said anything about avoiding?” Andrew asked, sinking into the driver’s seat of his car, but not turning it on just yet. 

“Allison did,” Neil replied. “So did Nicky, and Dan. And Matt. And Kevin, kind of, but I don’t think he was actually paying attention to the conversation.”

“Great,” Andrew deadpanned. 

“So, are you?” Neil asked. “Avoiding me?”

Andrew resolutely did not look at him. “What if I am?”

He could practically hear Neil shrug. 

“I would probably make it twice as hard for you to avoid me, just to be contrary.” 

Andrew sighed, resisting the urge to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. 

“Out of curiosity,” Neil said, and that time Andrew did glance at him. His hair was glowing a coppery red under the wavering late sunlight. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Andrew almost wanted to laugh. 

What could he say? _Yeah, I’m avoiding you because you ran into me that first day and the first thing I thought about was how much I liked your voice, but then my memories got the better of me and now when ever I look at you, all I can think of is how much I want, and how much I should not be allowed to want. You look like a drug and I don’t have the willpower to not get addicted, but I cannot be like them. Any of them. And cannot let anyone else let me be, even myself._

Half of that didn’t even make sense to _Andrew._ How would it make any sense to Neil?

“I am under no obligation to make sense to you,” Andrew said, as an answer to his own thoughts, his mind throwing up defensive walls around everything. 

Neil just looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. 

“Of course not,” he agreed. 

Andrew blinked at him and then shook his head, disoriented at Neil’s easy surrender and desperate for his own room and some much needed sleep, if he could manage to fall asleep at all. He had the windows rolled down, so he heard Neil over the purr of the engine as he twisted the key in the ignition. 

"See you Monday, Andrew," Neil said, and Andrew looked at him just long enough to catch his smile before shifting gears and ripping out of the parking lot like there were monsters hot on his heels. 

+++

Andrew had a problem. Andrew didn't usually have problems. He knew this would manifest into a problem. 

"Hi." 

Andrew looked up from studying his hands, a habit far too therapeutic for the simplicity of the action, but didn't look over at the source of the voice. He fixed his eyes on the far wall and sighed. 

"What." He didn't make it a question. 

"Am I not allowed to say hi to you? Is that not allowed?" Neil lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is it because we are enemies?" 

Andrew sighed again, closing his eyes. Ever since that evening in the parking lot, Neil had kept his word and worked twice as hard to approach Andrew, to antagonize him, to strike up a conversation, anything. It was to the point where Andrew just wanted to punch him on a regular basis. 

"Do you have a reputation to keep?" Neil asked. Andrew brought a hand up to rub at his temples. It was too early for this. "Because I can help with that." 

"I hate you," Andrew said. 

"Good, you already know your lines." 

"Oh my god," Andrew muttered, standing abruptly. Neil was closer than he anticipated, but he didn't back up. Neil's eyes danced with barely suppressed amusement. 

"You could pretend to punch me in the face," Neil suggested. "Give me a bloody nose. So we can be equal." 

"Fuck off," Andrew growled, even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. Neil's smile was blinding. 

"Make me," he said. 

Andrew honestly didn’t know what he would have done in that moment if Allison had not stepped into the drumline section and tapped Neil on the shoulder. Probably something incredibly stupid. 

“Neil,” Allison said, when Neil didn’t turn to acknowledge her. “The guard is meeting outside.” 

Andrew glanced over at the color guard on the other side of the band room. None of them were moving. Neil apparently came to the same conclusion Andrew did, that Allison was simply getting him out of Andrew’s reach, but he just smiled and let her drag him away, sending Andrew a little mocking two-fingered salute over his shoulder. 

Andrew didn’t move for a moment, anger and something else unnameable tripping through his veins. He would have just kept standing there, seething, but Renee’s gentle voice forced him into motion. He had a serious fucking problem.


	2. breathe  /brēT͟H/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homemade bread! Some exticenssial crisises! DCI! 
> 
> Honestly, what more could one need in life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering what DCI is, first of all, I'm sad for you, and second of all it's amazing. If you're curious here's a link https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SFFEjzQZj9A
> 
> I hope it works. DCI stands for Drum Corps International, and it is literally marching band at it's finest. People audition and pay to be a part of these bands and tour the world playing their show, and I think that's pretty neat of them. So. 
> 
> No tw for this chapter, let me know if I missed something :)

Neil

Neil paused with his hand on the tarnished front door handle, allowing the weight of pretending to slip for one moment, then two, then three, before taking a deep breath and pulling on a different set of armor, a different mask of half-truths and lies. 

Neil Josten wasn’t a real person. Not really. Neil Josten was simply the current name in a mile long list of people and personalities he had adopted at one time or another. 

It started as a game between him and his mother as they moved from military base to base. 

_You may be whoever you want, Abram,_ she told him, in the beginning, placing her uniform cap on his head. _You may reinvent yourself a million times, start over a million times, and I will start over with you._

That was before. Before she got sick. Before Nathan decided he was done with following his wife to the ends of the earth. Before Neil’s life fell apart before his eyes. 

Neil Josten was the new kid who chose to join the marching band instead of the cross country team, even though he was much better at running than he was at anything else. Neil Josten smiled like he meant it and laughed as if he had grown up doing it all the time. Neil Josten was just enough of a person to be believable, but not enough to be easy.

Abram wasn’t exactly a real person either. He was usually Abram for the least amount of time, but it felt the most real. Abram was the truth in the sense that he kept going back to it, over and over again. He got to be Abram more than once, and every new time it felt like a resurrection. 

Neil Josten stayed on the crumbling doorstep while Abram opened the door and stepped through, breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke and homemade bread. 

Stuart looked up from his book at the sound of Abram’s footsteps, and gave him one for his signature tiny smiles, one of the only things he shared appearance wise with his sister. 

“Abram,” he said. “I made bread.” 

Abram didn’t smile back at him, he only had so many to spare, but he did head towards the kitchen after giving him a nod of acknowledgement. 

“Problem?” Abram asked, finding the fresh bread on the counter, and cutting himself a piece. It was still warm. 

“I was in town. Thought I'd drop by.” Abram knew that meant his boyfriend had kicked him out for a night or two, based on the bag he had seen stowed beside the couch. 

“Staying?” Abram asked, even though he already knew the answer. 

“Just for the night,” Stuart replied. Abram took a bite of the bread and fought not to melt. It was incredible. “I have a job interview tomorrow morning, so I won’t stay long.” 

Abram glanced at the clock on the stove top and went to drop all his stuff on the kitchen counter before unlocking the cupboard above their broken microwave and pulling out the appropriate pill bottle. He checked and double checked the date, then grabbed and filled a glass of water, passing Stuart again on his way to the bedrooms on the other side of the house. His nose was buried in his book again. 

Abram knocked on his mother’s bedroom door, but entered before getting a response, knowing he wouldn't. Mary Hatford sat in a small patch of sunlight, facing the window, a far away look in her eyes. 

“Mum,” Abram said, coming to kneel right in front of her. “I brought your water.” 

It took her a moment to shift her focus from the window to him, and when she did, her brows furrowed ever so slightly. 

“It’s Abram,” he reminded her softly. 

“Abram,” she said, and he nodded. She mouthed his name, as if feeling the shape of it. 

“You have to take this,” Abram said, holding up the glass of water and the two white pills. After a moment, she took the pills and swallowed them dry, ignoring the water. Abram set it on her bedside table for later. 

He started to stand but her hand shot out to grab his wrist, her grip bruising.

“Abram,”” she said again, so he stopped. “Where are we?” 

“Columbia, South Carolina,” Abram answered truthfully, dutifully. 

“How long have we been here?” she asked. Abram would be surprised if her fingerprints were not permanently pressed into his arm. 

“A few days,” he lied. She nodded. 

“We need to leave soon,” she said. 

“We will,” Abram lied again. He lied and lied and lied. 

Mary let go of his arm and instead cradled his face in both hands. He let her. 

“I wish you had my eyes,” she whispered. 

_So do I,_ he thought, desperately, fervently. _So do I._ He didn’t say anything though, just gave her a tiny smile, a Hatford smile, and that too was a lie. He let her look at her fill for a moment more before gently extracting her hands and standing. 

She didn’t watch him leave, and he didn’t look back at her, stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

As he exhaled, he felt as if some essential part of himself was escaping with his breath, like his lungs were the cage for his soul and they were leaking; soon he wouldn’t have any soul left to lose. 

He was abruptly, profoundly tired. It was an exhaustion that ran bone deep, but he couldn’t just stop breathing, so he inhaled, exhaled, and made himself keep moving, keep going, keep staying and running at the same time.

+++

“Why must you antagonize everything that breathes?” Allison asked as they both waited their turn to get onto the bus like civilized people. 

Neil looked at her, frowning. “I don’t?” 

“You literally do,” Allison insisted. “Speaking of, why Andrew?”

“Andrew?” 

“You could have picked anyone in the band to hit in the face with your flag, and you chose Andrew.” 

Neil smirked at that. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, but now he hates you.”

Neil just looked at her. “So?”

Allison made a frustrated sound. “He looked like he was about to kill you just yesterday,” she said, very slowly, like he was stupid. Which he was. So. “He’s violent and terrifying. There is a reason people call him a monster.” 

Neil frowned again. Andrew might hate him, and he might be overall unpleasant most of the time, but he wasn’t a monster. “Why-”

“So why must you antagonize everything that breathes?” Allison interrupted. Neil could tell that she was mostly joking, but it still didn’t sit right in his chest. “One of these days someone is actually going to come for you.”

Neil didn’t have time to reply before Matt was inserting himself between them and wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders, nearly unbalancing all three of them. 

Neil still had yet to figure out when and why so many people saw fit to draw him into their circle. 

Allison he had known already, but barely. Her father used to be business partners with his uncle. 

Matt and Dan, though, were the first people to welcome him to the school, pointing out different people and showing him around on the first day of band camp. 

Laila and Alvarez were the next ones to welcome him, introducing him to Nicky and Kevin, and with Kevin, Aaron. 

It had been very overwhelming, that first day, and he was still baffled as to why they all kept including him.

“Great question Alli,” Matt said cheerfully, drawing him back to the conversation. “On a completely different note, Neil, do you want to be my seat partner?”

Neil opened his mouth to reply, but Allison got there before him. 

“Don’t ever call me that again, that nickname is only for Neil,” she started. “And no, you may not sit with him, I’m already sitting with him, back off.” 

“What are we, in third grade?” Dan asked, coming up beside Allison. Neil tried to wiggle out of Matt’s grip and failed miserably. 

“Yes,” Allison and Matt said at the same time. Dan laughed, and Neil managed to get himself free. 

“In that case,” Dan said, turning on Matt. “Are you trying to cheat on me?” 

Neil heard Matt sputtering behind him as he mounted the steps of the bus and walked as far down the aisle as possible. 

The last two seats were already taken by none other than Andrew and Renee, neither of whom acknowledged him, too caught up in their own hushed conversation. Neil thought he heard something about zombies, but he wasn’t sure. 

He didn't really want to interrupt, even if he had made antagonizing Andrew his mission, for band camp, at least.

The seat in front of Andrew was already taken by Kevin, who was somehow fast asleep, so Neil claimed the one across from him. After a moment Allison appeared, looking slightly exasperated at his disappearance, but taking the seat next to Neil anyway. Matt and Dan took the one right in front of them. 

“DCI!” Nicky crowed as he collapsed into the seat in front of Kevin, who didn’t stir. He popped back up a moment later, fixing his eyes on Neil immediately. “Neil,” he said, leaning on the back of the steat with his arms crossed and acting as chin rest. “Ever been?” 

“To DCI?” Neil shook his head. “No one even told me what it is.” 

“Oh god, you’ll love it. It’s like Broadway for marching band. It’s glorious. Makes me cry everytime.” 

“It’s true,” Matt said, looking back at Neil. “I might have teared up a bit last year.” 

Dan snorted. “A bit?”

“It was that trombone solo,” Matt said defensively. “I mean come on.”

“Yes yes, it was very impressive,” said Allison.

“Impressive?” Matt asked, incredulous. “Impressive? It was not impressive, it was literal perfection. One could only dream of reaching the level of pure artistry and masterfulness that was displayed for a full two minutes during that specific trombone solo last year.” 

“Masterfulness?” Dan asked. 

“When I die,” Matt continued, ignoring her, “I want that trombone solo carved on my grave. No wait, I want a hidden speaker to play that trombone solo on repeat next to my grave, forever.”

“That’s nice, Matt,” Allison said. “You can shut up now.” 

Matt flipped her off, and she returned the gesture. 

“We’re going to listen to the Harry Potter audio book now,” Dan said pointedly. “Goodbye.” With that they turned around, just as the bus started to pull out of the school parking lot. 

It took about three hours to get to the stadium hosting DCI. Neil spent some of the time indirectly answering all of Allison’s questions, and the rest listening to music through one of her earbuds as she used the other. He didn’t know any of the songs, but he didn’t mind. 

Near the very end, Nicky brought out Heads Up on his phone, so they played that until they had to get off the bus, finding everything far funnier than it actually was.

Neil didn’t know what to do with the warmth growing in his chest, so he ignored it. 

They got into the stadium and to their seats without much trouble. Neil found himself surrounded by the people who accepted every little scrap of himself he saw fit to give them without blinking, no matter how much truth was actually in them. The thought made his heart squeeze, just a little bit. 

"Did anyone see the concession stand?" a voice to Neil's right asked, and Neil turned to find a boy with dark hair and an even darker tattoo curling up one side of his neck looking at him expectantly. 

"Um," Neil said, leaning back just a little bit. "Do I know you?" 

The boy smirked at him. "No." He had a french accent. Neil blinked and saw tiny cafes with even tinier pastries. Meadows with delicate shafts of grass dancing in the breeze. Days that sounded like his mother's laughter. "But I don't think I know you either," the boy continued, squinting at him. 

"Jean!" Alvarez shouted gleefully, appearing in the row behind them and draping themself across Jean's back. Laila was not far behind, as always. "I see you've met Neil." 

"Kind of," Jean replied. 

"Exchange student," Lila supplied helpfully. "He was here last year, too." 

"You're not in the band," said Neil, unnecessarily. Neil had thought that this was only a band trip.

"Nope," Jean agreed, smiling again. 

Just then, before Neil could ask more questions, someone shushed them, and they turned their attention to the field, where the first band was assembling. 

A hush descended on the stadium, and Neil found himself holding his breath. 

It was breathtaking, it truly was. The amount of sound that the first marching band produced alone was terrifying. When you add drill and choreography, it was insane. 

Neil was mesmerised. 

The first performance was over far too quickly. The applause was deafening. 

Allison took one look at him afterwards and laughed. "Oh my little blue bell, you are a band nerd." 

Neil frowned at her. "Don't call me that." 

"What? A band nerd?" Allison asked, ruffling his hair. He didn't have anywhere to go to escape her. "Or blue bell?" 

Neil didn't have time to reply before the next band started. 

It was just as incredible as the first. 

Show after show, Neil sat there, enraptured. He almost couldn't remember the band that played last because every new one seemed better than the one before. 

There was a moment between one performance and another, when the stands were enveloped in sound. Shouting and laughing, whispers and whistles and footsteps. It seemed to bend and burrow itself into Neil's chest, taking up space and rendering him dizzy, so very dizzy. 

It was memories like these, so saturated in color and infused with clarity, that haunted him through his years. They bled into the person he was trying to create a new and infected him with everything he should have been able to leave behind. 

Those memories were the most painful, simply because they were the ones he wished he could recreate. The ones he wished he could keep. 

Suddenly, it was all too much. 

Too bright and too loud. Too wild and wonderful and fleeting. 

He stood, ignoring the questioning looks and climbing his way out of the bleachers, down, down, and down some more, plunging into the shadows underneath, just as the next band began to play. 

Neil didn't really have a destination in mind, he just wandered, keeping his eyes low and his steps even. He didn't register any of his surroundings, which would have earned him a slap from his mother, at least. He would have just kept going, but a hand reached out to stop him. 

"Neil," Andrew said, when Neil completely froze. “Hey. Neil, breathe.” 

He did. 

Andrew retracted his hand as Neil turned to face him. 

Neil hadn’t seen him leave the stands. 

They just looked at each other for a moment, quietly, curiously, and Neil wanted to hold his breath again, like he did during the performances, wanted time to stop, wanted the world to cease turning so he could hold that very moment in the palm of his hand for all eternity, keeping it close and alive and fluttering like the soft wings of a moonlit moth drawn to a flame. 

But the universe had never bothered to ask Neil what he wanted, so time kept up it’s endless forward march. 

Andrew wordless offered Neil his water bottle, and Neil accepted, suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. 

“Thank you,” said Neil, handing it back to Andrew, who glared at him. 

“Don’t,” Andrew said, then clarified, “thank me.” 

Neil shrugged, finding a smile within himself and giving it to Andrew before dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Familiar exhaustion pooled in his fingers, dripped down his spine. He sighed. 

Andrew looked at him a moment longer, then turned on his heel, casting a look over his shoulder at Neil, so Neil followed him. 

They fell into step easily, like they had been doing it all their lives. Andrew led him past the concessions and the stairs and the entrance to the stadium itself. They passed through an area clearly not open for public use, but Neil didn’t really care. They climbed several sets of stairs before arriving at the very top of the opposite announcers box, overlooking the stadium from the visitor’s side. 

Neil barely glanced at the performing band, his eyes going immediately to the crowd. He tried to find Allison or Matt, but they were too far away. 

Eventually, he joined Andrew sitting down, and they watched the rest of that show in silence. Andrew handed him a cigarette halfway through that he accepted but didn’t actually smoke, instead holding it near his face and inhaling deeply. 

“What school did you transfer from?” Andrew asked finally, and Neil looked away from the crowd to study his profile. The sun was setting behind him, creating a halo around his frame and spinning his hair into gold. Neil didn’t want to look away. 

“Out of state,” Neil replied, after a pause. Out of the country, actually, but Andrew hadn’t asked that. 

“Why?” 

Neil swallowed, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Closer to family.” That was the truth, just not all of it. Andrew accepted it with a nod. 

“Have you always lived in Columbia?” Neil asked softly, because he felt like he should, because he wanted to know. To keep it even. 

Andrew shifted every so lightly, leaning back on his hands. “No,” he said. Neil waited for him to continue. “Foster care,” he said eventually. 

“Now?” Neil asked.

Andrew shook his head, another tiny movement, controlled, subdued. “No,” he said, his voice soft. Below them, another band opened their show with a glorious first note. 

“They might start looking for you,” Andrew said, after more silence. 

“They might,” Neil agreed. Finally, Andrew turned to look at him. Neil smiled back.  
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t tell them anything, for your reputation's sake.” 

Andrew watched him stand and drop his burnt out cigarette, crushing it beneath his heel. He tapped two fingers to his temple in a little salute, turning before he could catch Andrew’s expression, and making his way back down the stairs, feeling steadier than he had in a very long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think, I live for comments :)


	3. corn·flow·er /ˈkôrnˌflou(ə)r/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first football game!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I missed updating last night, I'm so sorry, but it's okay bc I shall just post two chapters today, as a treat. 
> 
> TW: implied physical abuse, implied self harm

Andrew

Andrew shoved a strawberry sucker into his mouth and leaned out the front door to press on the door bell a million times. Something crashed upstairs, and Andrew could hear a quite impressive slew of curses over the general cacophony. 

“Damn it, Andrew,” Aaron snapped, appearing at the top of the stairs, looking harried and altogether unprepared. “I’m coming. Jesus.” 

“Wouldn’t want to be late to the first day of school,” Andrew replied, laying off the doorbell and heading to his miserable excuse for a car. They already were late. By about four minutes. 

Aaron kept up a steady stream of curse words throughout the short drive to school, shoving things into his book bag, spilling his lunch, and losing his phone between the seat and the door within the span of two minutes. Andrew ignored him. Mostly. He didn’t miss the bruise that bloomed on his left temple, mostly hidden in his hairline. 

They walked in together, parting ways just as the tardy bell rang. Already, Andrew felt as if his soul were leaving his body at the sound. 

He zoned out for the first half of the day, drifting from class to class, most of them completely pointless. He had had enough credits to graduate last year, his junior year, but two things held him back: Aaron, and the fact that he genuinely did not know what he was going to do out of highschool. So he stayed. 

Renee caught up to him right before he reached the cafeteria for lunch, keeping up a conversation all through the lunch line and leading him over to a table at the very far end of the room, right next to the giant windows overlooking the practice fields. He didn’t notice before it was too late that there were people already sitting at the table. 

People being Neil. And Allison. And Kevin, sitting next to Jean, and Matt and Dan across from them. 

Renee took the seat across from Allison, leaving the only open seat, the one next to Renee and across from Neil, for Andrew. 

Andrew debated just leaving and finding a quiet spot outside where he could smoke in peace, but then Neil, looking up from the papers he had in front of him and catching sight of Andrew, smiled at him. 

Andrew sat down. 

Allison coughed. “Um,” she said, eyeing Andrew, “are we sure this is a good idea?”

“What?” Neil asked, all innocence. 

“You two.” She gestured between them. “Sitting in close proximity to each other.” Andrew just stared at her. 

“What?” Neil asked, placing a hand over his heart. “Are you saying I can’t be civil?”

Allison fixed him with a very unimpressed look. 

“I can be civil,” Neil insisted. “Watch. Andrew, how has your day been?” 

Andrew turned his stare on Neil, saying nothing. After a moment, Neil smiled. Andrew tried to ignore the dimple that appeared in one cheek. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Neil said, then turned back to Allison. “See?” 

Allison just shook her head, looking fond and exasperated at the same time. 

“What are the odds that one of them throws something at the other within the next week?” Nicky asked, appearing out of nowhere and taking the seat next to Kevin at the other end of the table.

“Fifteen out of twenty,” Matt replied immediately. 

“That’s not how that game works, and you know it,” Dan said. “Plus, you said it right in front of them, so now it won’t work.”

“If you're going to bet on things, just bet,” said Jean. “Don’t be a coward.” 

Nicky flicked a pea at him. “Fine,” he said, “what are the odds you stick that pea up your nose and then eat it?”

“One through ten,” Jean said, without hesitation. 

They both counted to three and then said, “seven.” 

“Ha!” Nicky shouted, pumping a fist in the air triumphantly. Jean, unaffected, took the pea and shoved it up his nose, then blew it out and popped it in his mouth. Renee cringed beside Andrew, as did Matt and Neil. Allison and Kevin wore matching looks of disappointment. Andrew no longer wanted to associate with these people. 

He glanced at the clock, and finding there to be about five minutes left in that period, he stood, grabbed his tray full of horrid cafeteria food, and left. 

+++

For some ridiculous reason, school started on the first Wednesday of September, after the local fair. It was still far too hot to function properly outside, despite the rapid approach of fall. Andrew swealtered in silence in his black tank top, black jeans, and black armbands that Renee had given him the year before, another strawberry sucker sticking out of his mouth. 

Somehow, band practice for an hour after school felt longer than the all day band camp had. 

During a water break when most everyone chose to go back inside, Andrew opted to stay outside, simply because it was less work and it lowered his human interactions. Neil practically skipped up to him, collapsing beside him where he sat in the shade with a blue Air Head handing out of his mouth. 

  
  


“Trying to sustain yourself on sugar, Minyard?” Neil asked, taking the candy out of his mouth and studying it. Andrew didn’t answer, distracted by the way the inside of Neil’s lips were stained blue. Neil stuck out his tongue, also very blue, to lick the Air Head, and grimaced. “Too sweet,” he murmured, mostly to himself, and stuck it back in his mouth. 

“You’re an idiot,” Andrew said, for lack of anything better. 

Neil raised an eyebrow at him. “And?” 

Andrew huffed and looked away, fiddled with his sucker, stuck a finger under one of his armbands and then immediately pulled it out. 

“So I think we should make a secret language,” Neil said after a moment, and Andrew looked back over at him, unsure if he heard correctly. 

“What?” 

“You know,” Neil said, gesturing vaguely. “Like a code. Kind of like sign language, but not, so no one will know that we’re even talking to each other, and even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to understand.” 

Andrew blinked at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Neil shrugged, leaning back on his hands. The harsh light dappled through the trees above them and reached them in hazy circles through the leaves, reducing some of Neil to a speckled brilliance and the rest dipped in shadows. “Why not? This way you can keep your reputation of hating everyone, and I can keep my reputation of constant antagonism.” Neil tipped his head to the side to look at Andrew. “And we might just screw up a few bets along the way.” 

Andrew thought about it for a moment. Neil let him. 

“Fine,” he said eventually, because he was also an idiot. “Like what?” 

Neil straightened, grinning. “Oh, I didn’t actually think you’d say yes,” he said. “I haven’t thought of any.” He finished his Air Head and stuck the wrapper in his pocket; Andrew’s eyes followed the movement of his hands. “How about tapping on the table twice, to say hi?” 

Andrew gave him a nod, so he continued. 

“And then if you're having a good day, and you want to talk, keep your hands on the table and visible, but if you want me to leave you alone, don’t show your hands.”

Andrew nodded again. 

“And then this,” Neil kept going, reaching up to tug on his ear in demonstration, “can mean something like ‘these people are idiots’ because we need to be able to talk about people behind their backs, obviously.” 

“Would it really be behind their backs if we were sitting right next to them?” Andrew asked, and Neil laughed. 

“Fine,” he said. “We need to be able to talk about them without their knowledge.”

“Obviously,” Andrew said, and Neil laughed again. 

Andrew thought he might be able to get drunk on Neil’s laugh alone. It was a terrifying thought. 

The rest of the band started to filter back out, signaling the end of their water break. 

Without thinking too much about it, Andrew held out his hand. "Give me your phone," he said. 

"Um, why?" Neil asked as he pulled out an ancient looking flip phone and handed it to Andrew. 

The only reason Andrew wasn't repulsed by the sight was the fact that he had almost the exact same phone. 

"Number," Andrew answered, like it was obvious, typing in his quickly and sending himself a message so he had Neil's number in his phone, then handing the phone back to Neil.

"Oh," Neil said. "Okay." 

Andrew just looked at him for a moment, and Neil looked back. The light did amazing things for his freckles. 

“Well,” Neil said, clearing his throat and getting up. “Until next time.” He gave Andrew his two fingered salute, and Andrew tried not to watch him leave.

+++

“Aaron!” Andrew called up the stairs. “We need to go!” 

He already had seven texts from Kevin, reminding him not so passive aggressively to be early. 

**Day:** _ First football game of the season Andrew  _

**Day:** _ Remember last time? _

**Day:** _ Let’s not repeat last time _

**Day:** _ I know you’ve seen these just respond already  _

When he didn’t get an answer from Aaron, he sighed, climbing the stairs to go drag him away from whatever assignment he was agonizing over this time. 

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, so he knocked on it, causing it to fall open a little. 

“Aaron, come on-” Andrew said, but then stopped, catching sight of Aaron’s reflection in the cloudy mirror. 

He was smearing concealer over a dark bruise on his left cheek bone. A new one. 

Andrew pushed the door open the rest of the way, and Aaron jumped, dropping the tube of concealer into the sink and cursing softly. 

“When did that happen?” Andrew asked. Aaron didn’t look at him. “Aaron.” 

Aaron didn’t answer, so he said it again, grabbing his sleeve. “Aaron. When did she do that?” 

“Fuck off, Andrew,” Aaron said, trying to twist out of his grip, but he just held on tighter. 

“Let me see.”

“Andrew, stop,” Aaron said, and Andrew froze. “Just stop.” 

They stared at each other for a moment, almost perfect mirror images of each other, then Aaron gently uncurled Andrew’s fingers from his sleeve. 

“I’m going to kill her,” Andrew said, quietly, softly. Aaron was already shaking his head. 

“You can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t.” 

Andrew curled his hand into a fist. He wanted to punch something, to break something. 

Aaron shook his head again, and then brushed passed Andrew and out of the bathroom. Andrew swayed in his absence, grabbing onto the sink for balance.

He felt so helpless, and he hated it. He hated it so much. 

The drive to the school was a silent one. 

Once they got there, Aaron didn’t wait for him, grabbing his mellophone from the back seat and heading for the doors without looking back. Andrew followed, much slower. 

Before he entered the building he pushed all thoughts of Aaron safely to the back of mind, pulling up the indifference that acted as his armor. 

The first thing he heard as he entered the cafeteria area was Nicky’s voice, reaching an octave that should not have been possible. He almost didn’t want to know. He kept walking, hoping to avoid whatever had Nicky freaking out all together, but then Nicky called his name and he turned around automatically. 

He was not even remotely prepared for the sight that greeted him. 

Allison and Neil sat in the cafeteria chairs, facing each other, Allison with a makeup brush held in one hand and Neil’s face in the other. Neil opened his eyes and smiled when they found Andrew’s, and the breath hitched in Andrew’s lungs. 

Neil was wearing a dark tunic-looking thing with elaborate sheer sleeves and black sequins sewn in mesmerizing swirls across his chest and up his neck. Allison had lined his eyes with black, bringing out the vibrant blue of his irises, and there was glitter  _ everywhere.  _

Sparkles dusted his eyelids and cheekbones, and even in a line though his lower lip, but somehow, he looked incredible. 

Andrew realized a beat later that he was staring. 

Neil smirked at him, raising an eyebrow, and Andrew had enough. He turned and walked away, towards the band room, ignoring Neil’s voice saying something to Allison behind him. 

The rest of the night was kind of hazy, pocketed with short bursts of soft laughter from Renee, blinding smiles from Nicky, concentrated scowls from Kevin, and the occasional glimpse of Neil. 

  
  


Always, always, catching glimpses of Neil.

Their halftime performance was only a mild trainwreck, which was better than usual. 

Their football team lost, but no one in the band really cared, as most of them didn’t even watch the game. They just played stand tunes with their normal vigor and ignored all the football parents screaming at the referees.

Andrew found himself not exactly enjoying it, but also not hating it. 

It helped that the drumline sat in the front of the stands, with a clear, unobstructed view of the colorguard when they did their routines on the track during the stand tunes. 

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. 

Neil was just captivating to watch. 

When he stepped onto the track, the performance consumed him. He was twirling a six foot pole, much taller than he was, and he managed to make it look effortless. With the twist of his body and the snap of the silk, Andrew couldn’t look away. 

“They are very talented,” Renee observed from beside him. Andrew grunted in response, making Renee smile. “There’s an after party tonight,” she said after a moment, not looking away from the color guard. “At Allison’s. I’m sure she’ll drag Neil along.” 

Andrew turned to look at her. “Why should I care?” he asked, his voice as controlled as his movements.

Renee tipped her head to look at him and smiled, a rare mischievous glint in her eyes that most never got to see. “No reason,” she said serenely. Andrew glared at her. 

“Careful, Walker,” he said, and she laughed quietly.

“I always am,” she replied. 

Andrew believed her. 

It was one of the reasons he tolerated her presence all the time. She was careful. She was always so careful. 

Not like she was walking on eggshells, afraid to take one wrong step and break the world around her, like everything was fragile; she was careful in a way that showed that she understood that the world was already in pieces, and the edges were sharp as glass, as deadly as blades. She navigated life like it was a dangerous, disquieting thing, because it was. 

_ Hope, life,  _ she had once said to him, pressing a small package into his hands. He had opened it later to find a pair of black armbands with little blue cornflowers embroidered into the inside cuff.  _ You cannot have one without the other. Without hope, life is meaningless, and without life, hope is nonexistent. Hope is a dangerous, disquieting thing, Andrew, but I think you might just learn to like it.  _

Hope, Andrew thought, was as distant as the horizon and twice as beautiful, especially when the heat of the day, the persistent, terrible light, the memories best forgotten, sunk below it’s great expanse. Hope mocked him with brilliant colors and broken promises, and the more he discovered he might want it, the more beautiful it became, but one could never hold the sunset in the palm of one’s hand. So why should he try?

Nevertheless, he kept the armbands with the little blue cornflowers on the inside cuffs, and he kept talking to Renee. He let his brother in, inch by inch, discovering his bruises and scrapes, and promising to do something about it because promises are the currency of the desperate, and Andrew was wealthy in words. He held the resulting righteous, explosive rage in his bones where it could hurt only him. Hurt him and wait to be unleashed. 

But it wasn’t hope. At least not yet. 

“Renee!” someone shouted, drawing Andrew out of his thoughts. It was Jean, leaning against the chain link fence separating the bleachers from the track with a grin on his face. Andrew was pretty sure that he was not allowed to be on that side of the fence. “Is this rumoured party just for the band folk? Asking for a friend.” 

“Why don’t you ask Allison?” Renee replied with a sweet smile of her own. “It’s her party.” 

Jean scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “She terrifies me. You know this.” Andrew highly doubted that. “Besides, I would rather ask you.” Andrew fought not to roll his eyes. 

That time Renee laughed, and Jean lit up at the sound. “Would the lack of invitation even stop you?” she asked. 

“Of course not. This is why I’m asking for a friend. A friend with regrettably intact morals.” 

“Tragic,” Renee said. “Here, I’ll help you get started. Allison!”

Jean looked shocked for all of two seconds before Allison was sweeping over to stand next to him. She was almost exactly as tall as he was, but she looked taller due to Jean burying his face in his hands.

“Renee,” he moaned, but there was laughter in his voice. 

“Yes darling?” Allison asked, eyes all for Renee. Andrew’s attention shifted to Neil, who drifted over a few moments later, curiosity written all over his expression. “Who do I need to stab? I know you could do it yourself babe, but I don’t want you to.”

“Jean has a question for you,” Renee replied. Andrew didn’t miss the blush creeping up her neck and tipping her ears like a rosey frost. 

Sending Renee a look of abject betrayal, Jean turned to Allison and stood up straighter to match her height. “I was wondering,” he said, “if you were opening your house to more than just the band. My friend is a vampire and must be invited into a household lest he burst into flames upon crossing the threshold without permission.”

Allison narrowed her eyes at him. “Depends,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

Before Jean could respond, someone called his name, and then none other than Jeremy Knox, Columbia’s star football player and perhaps the most popular boy in school, broke away from the herd of sweaty football boys and ran up to join them at the fence with his helmet tucked under his arm. He had the kind of smile that made the world around him pale in comparison, a little crooked, a little rougeish, a lot sweet, and he unleashed it on them with no regard for the casualties. Andrew thought he heard some freshmen girls behind him gasp. 

“Hi,” Jeremy said, a little breathlessly, looking at Jean first and then everyone else, even tipping his head up to include Renee and Andrew in the stands. Allison was looking at him with one raised eyebrow, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Good job on your show tonight. I know I didn’t see it, but i’m sure it was great.” He managed to sound genuine. Which wasn’t really a surprise. Andrew didn’t think he could be insincere about anything, even if he tried. 

“Are you a vampire?” Allison asked, without preamble. 

Jeremy paused for a moment before laughing. 

“Only on Wednesdays and Fridays,” he replied easily, glancing at Jean and then away. “Occasionally on Sundays.”

Jean seemed to choke on his own spit. 

Allison squinted at them some more, then smiled. “Fine, you can come,” she said, then shoved a finger in Jean’s face. “But you owe me an explanation.” 

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean by that, Allison,” Jean said, after recovering from his coughing fit, affecting innocence while dragging Jeremy away by the sleeve. Renee laughed quietly beside Andrew. 

“When did that happen?” Andrew asked, just as quiet. 

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean by that, Andrew,” Renee said. Andrew flipped her off. She laughed again. 

“He better not bring the entire football team,” Allison muttered below them. “I do not associate with jocks. With the exception of Jeremy Knox. But it’s Jeremy Knox, so it doesn't really count.” 

“Why not?” Neil asked.

“Because,” Allison said, like it was obvious. “It’s Jeremy Knox.” 

Neil gave her a bemused smile, shaking his head. “Okay?” he said. 

“Oh, you tiny, beautiful goldfish,” Allison said, patting Neil’s head. “Don’t ever change.”

For some reason, Neil's smile twisted, becoming wry and perhaps a little sad. "No promises," he said, but Andrew didn't think anyone else caught the shift. Allison was already moving on, leaving to instruct the guard to pack up all their stuff, and Renee was dutifully listening to Wymack shout orders to no one in particular.

Neil's gaze caught Andrew's for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he looked away, following Allison and the guard, and Andrew was left feeling like he'd missed something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought, I'm always curious <3


	4. glass·es  /ˈɡlasəz/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post football game party, a game of never have I ever, Renee being the way she is, oh and glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, we're back! This chapter is a little long, you're welcome. 
> 
> Also my notes at the end of the first chapter have decided that they now live at the end of the third chapter and this one. No clue why. They wont change no matter how many times I edit them. Also idk what you guys see soooooo, feel free to just ignore those.
> 
> It's fine. I apparently don't make these decisions anymore. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you're enjoying this so far, please let me know what you think!
> 
> TW: description of panic attacks

Neil 

Neil hated parties. 

He also hated not going to parties. 

It was a very conflicting cycle of not wanting to socialize whatsoever, but at the same time, harboring a fear of being left out, of missing something, of being left behind. 

Which was ironic, seeing as Neil had a reputation of leaving everything behind in the blink of an eye. 

He tried not to think about it too much. 

He’d told Allison he would go, for some reason. To her party, that is.

She tried to get him to ride with her, but he refused. He said he had to go home first.

So now he was on his way to a party he wasn't sure he even wanted to attend, after he’d checked on his mom, made sure she took her medicine. After he’d found his uncle passed out on the couch, again, a bottle of whiskey in his hands. After he’d reminded himself that this little town was not his, and these people would never know him, not really, and that it was better that way. 

He pulled up to Allison’s house, a huge, monstrous thing carved in white and crawling with ivy, and suddenly, he didn’t know what he was doing there. 

He didn’t know what he was thinking. He couldn’t have this, so what was the use in pretending that he could, even for a night? 

Neil was half a second away from turning the car back on and going home, when the front door opened, spilling light onto the perfectly manicured lawn as Allison leaned on the doorframe. 

“Neil!” she yelled, flashing him a blinding smile, alcohol sloshing out of the wine glass she held in one hand. “You’re here!” 

Neil took a deep breath and got out of the car, ignoring every instinct in himself to just turn around and drive away. 

“Hi, beautiful boy,” Allison said as he mounted the porch to reach her. He tried to return her smile, but he knew he came up short. “Get in here, we were waiting for you.” With that she seized his wrist, dragging him through the crowds of people mingling in just about every room Neil looked into. He didn’t know most of them. 

There was music playing from somewhere deep in the house, something dirty and nostalgic, and loud enough that Neil could feel the base through his shoes. Somewhere along the way a glass was shoved into his hand, but he didn’t try it. 

Eventually, they got to what Neil assumed was the kitchen, and Allison released him in favor of stealing Kevin’s drink from his hands and taking a sip. Kevin didn’t even notice, caught up in a heated conversation with Laila and Alvarez about something or another. Aaron stood beside them not participating in the conversation, but not leaving it either. 

“Neil!” Nicky shouted over the music from his perch on the counter. “Finally! Now we can start.” 

“What are we starting?” Neil asked, counting the people in the room and finding that everyone was there except Andrew. He didn’t know why he cared. 

“Never Have I Ever,” Renee said, suddenly beside him. He jumped for the sole reason that no one had been able to sneak up on him like that in a long time. He stepped an inch away from her, mostly out of instinct, but if she noticed, she didn’t show it, just smiling serenely at him. “It’s tradition to start every band party with a game of Never Have I Ever.”

“Um,” said Neil, quite eloquently. 

“We basically just go around the circle, and everyone has to say something that they have never done before, and if you have done that thing, you have to take a drink,” Renee explained. 

“I don’t drink,” Neil said. 

“Neither do I,” Renee said easily, handing him her unopened soda. He was about to protest, but then Dan raised her voice above the rest and called for silence. 

“Alright,” she said, using her band director voice. “Remember, no targeting, no repeats, and try to think of different ones from last time.”

“Yes ma’am,” Nicky said, and she glared at him. 

“For that, you’re going first,” Dan said. 

“Yes ma’am,” Nicky said again, then cowered as Matt reached over to flick his forehead. “Fine, never have I ever been outside the East Coast.” Everyone took a drink except Aaron and Nicky. Neil followed a second after everyone. 

“Never have I ever,” Matt said next, grinning, “gotten a speeding ticket.” About half of them lifted their glasses to their lips while Matt cackled. 

“You definitely should have by now,” Allison said sourly, and Matt winked at her. 

“That’s why it’s funny,” he replied. “You’re only in trouble if you get caught. I just never get caught.” 

“Whatever,” Dan said, shoving him. “My turn now.” She neatly dodged Matt’s retaliating swipe, smiling. “Never have I ever lived with my mother.” Less than half of them took a sip. 

“Never have I ever lived with my father,” Aaron said. It was one of the first times Neil had actually heard him speak, and he was surprised at how different he sounded than Andrew. The very cadence of their words was different. 

It momentarily distracted him from the question, but then Nicky, Matt, Allison, and Alvarez raised their glasses and Neil followed. That sip tasted like nothing, and he dug his fingernails into his arms to keep his face impassive. 

“Never have I ever,” Laila said next, a mischievous smile on her face, “kissed a boy.” Nicky laughed, tipping his glass back first, then Matt and Dan followed at the same time, linking their arms together before drinking. Allison toasted the room before drinking hers, and Alvarez took a sip with a grimace on their face. 

Neil froze for a moment, thinking of France, of Greece. Thinking of his mother's wrath when she found out. He found that he didn’t really want to lie about this. Then he caught sight of Andrew in the background, on the outskirts, and before he could think about it, he took a drink. 

“Oh my god!” Nicky shrieked from across the room. “I knew it! I knew you swung my way! Come on people, pay up.” 

“I don’t swing,” Neil interrupted, before he got too far.

“But you just-”

“I know,” Neil said, needing them to understand this for some reason. “Exactly. I don’t swing.”

It had never been worth it. Kissing, sex, none of it.

It was quiet for a moment, and then Nicky sighed dramatically, countering that by smiling at Neil, and they moved on. 

Neil only half listened after that, just enough to know that he didn’t have to drink, catching Andrew’s eye and then quickly looking away, and then suddenly it was his turn. 

“Oh,” he said, fiddling with the tab on his can of soda, very aware that he was the center of attention. “Never have I ever,” he started, thinking wildly, desperate to reveal the least about himself that he possibly could, “had any siblings.” Only Dan, Aaron, and Alvarez took a drink. 

Just as quickly as it came, the attention shifted from him to Renee, and he could breathe again. 

“Never have I ever,” said Renee, “lived in America for more than a few years.” Everyone in the group took a drink, and Neil winced, hoping no one would notice his lack of movement, but of course, Allison did. 

“Neil,” she said, surprised in her voice. “Where did you live before this?” 

He tried not to shrink at the question, and almost succeeded. Movement caught his eye, and a found Andrew staring intently at him. He fought not to fidget.

“A lot of places,” he said vaguely, regretting his decision to ever step foot in this house. 

“Why?” Allison pressed, and Neil barely suppressed a flinch. 

“Military brat,” he said eventually. It felt like he had to drag the words out of his mouth. “We went wherever they sent us.” It was the truth. Probably the most truth he had ever given such a large group of people. He sucked in a breath, and it caught in his lungs. 

Allison opened her mouth to say something else, but she was cut off by a loud knocking sound, and all eyes turned to Andrew in the doorway to the kitchen. He lowered his hand from rapping on the wall and instead settled it on the counter beside him, tapping twice. Neil’s gaze snagged on the movement. 

“They’re trying to set fire to something out back,” Andrew said, his voice bored. “I thought you might want to know.” 

Neil heard Allison curse and set her glass down, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Andrew’s hand on the counter. Andrew tapped the counter twice again, and then Neil looked up to his face, finding his eyes and sucking in another breath. Neil tapped on his can, and Andrew’s eyes flicked from his hands back to his face. He raised an eyebrow, and Neil let out his breath. 

Before anyone could notice, Andrew turned and left, looking over his shoulder at Neil once before rounding a corner. 

Neil took it as the invitation that it was and followed. 

The rooms felt darker than before, the light was twisting in odd ways; Neil thought he might be able to reach out and wrap it around his fingers. Everything looked like it was going in slow motion. 

Andrew led him up a giant set of stairs, climbing up and up and up until it opened up to a seemingly endless hallway, where he chose a door at random and threw it open. Neil followed him all the way through a ridiculously spacious guest room and out onto a balcony overlooking the gardens and a glowing pool. 

Andrew stopped at the railing, leaning out on two hands before rocking back again. 

Neil leaned against the railing on his elbows, placing his face in his hands and forcing himself to breathe. 

"Neil," Andrew said, after a moment. 

"Andrew," replied Neil, his voice strangled and desperate. 

"What the fuck, Neil." It wasn't really a question. 

That startled a laugh out of him, slightly hysterical, and then he couldn't stop, couldn't pull enough oxygen into his lungs, couldn't push it out properly. 

"Neil, stop." A warm hand landed on the back of his neck, steady and grounding. "Stop." 

For some inexplicable reason, it worked. 

The first full breath he took felt like knife shards in his lungs but he honestly didn't care. 

"Neil," Andrew said again, removing his hand, after Neil was breathing like a normal human being. Neil looked up, across the gardens, found the starless sky and held onto the sight like a lifeline. "So who did you lie to, me or them?" 

Neil didn't respond for a moment, and then two. Andrew didn't interrupt his silence.

"Both?" Neil whispered, unsure where the word came from and unable to take it back. It trembled in the air between them. 

"Why?" 

"You don't want the answer to that question." 

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know." 

Finally, Neil looked at Andrew, and Andrew was already looking back. 

Neil shook his head, trying to get Andrew to understand. "You don't want to know," he said again, his voice soft. 

"You do not get to tell me what I do and do not want," said Andrew. Neil looked away.

Vaguely, behind the haze of Neil’s panic, he realized how much he liked it when Andrew said things like that. 

_ You do not get to tell me what I do and do not want. _

_ I am under no obligation to make sense to you.  _

Andrew seemed to be carved out marble, his values etched to his core, and he was so achingly his own person that Neil felt like candle smoke in comparison. 

The silence stretched like taffy. Laughter floated up from below them. There was a shriek and a following splash as someone was thrown into the pool. Cheers arose after that, but still, they didn't say anything. 

"You don't add up," Andrew said, finally. 

_ God, I hope not,  _ Neil thought. 

"I am not a math problem," he mumbled out loud. 

"But I'll still solve you," Andrew said, and Neil froze. 

He pushed off the railing, stepping back, his alarm spiking. "Don't," he said, as Andrew's eyes followed him, wary. "Don't do that yourself, or me." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"It'll just make it so much harder-" Neil cut himself off, digging a hand through his hair to disguise the shaking of his hands. "I can't-" he cut himself off again. "Just don't." The last part came out as a whisper. 

Neil took another step back, and then another, until he was off the balcony and all the way in the guest room. The lights were off, but when Neil looked to the side, he could still see his reflection in the mirror. 

His hair was a mess from his restless fingers, and it was too dark to tell what color his eyes were, but it didn’t matter. Neil looked a little more like his father every day. 

Neil’s father was not a nice man. He always had so much anger held inside of him, even after he let it loose on his wife, on his son. He was not good, and he was not kind, but he also was not crazy. 

Neil’s mother used to be a lot of things. 

She was not particularly kind or gentle, but she always used to be right. She used to be the standard at which Neil set his life. Now, she barely knew what was real. 

_ I wish you had my eyes, Abram. _

Neil staggered. 

“Shit,” he whispered, and suddenly Andrew was in the doorway. Neil looked away from his reflection to look at him. “Shit,” he said again. 

Andrew took a step towards him, and he took a step back. Andrew froze. 

“Neil,” Andrew said, cautiously. Neil barely heard him. 

“I can’t leave,” Neil said, as it dawned on him, quietly, the words just getting past his lips. 

“Can’t leave where, Neil?” 

“Here,” Neil said, wrapping his arms around himself like if he tried hard enough he could disappear. “Here. I can’t- I’m not leaving.” 

The horrible reality crashed into him hard enough to make him stagger again. He wasn’t leaving Columbia, not as long as this was where the best doctors were. 

  
  


“Do you want to?” Andrew asked, his voice unbearably steady. 

Neil stared at him. He didn’t think anyone had ever asked him that question before. 

“No?” he whispered. “Yes. I don’t know. No.” 

No. Of course he didn’t want to leave. He was so tired of leaving.

But he also didn’t know how to stay. 

“Then don’t,” Andrew replied, like it was easy. 

“God,” Neil said, pressing a hand over his mouth and taking another step back. “Fuck.”

“Neil.” 

“Fuck.” Neil kept moving back, running into the side of the bed and almost falling flat on his face. “I have to go.” 

Andrew didn’t move as Neil finally found the door, twisting the handle and pulling it open. Voices spilled in from downstairs, muddied and joyful and piercing, and Neil needed to get out of there. 

He practically sprinted down the stairs, almost colliding with Jeremy and Jean on the way down. One of them might have asked him if he was okay, but he didn’t slow down to respond. 

The night air was thick and humid, encasing him as soon as he made it out the front door and down the driveway, his vision tunneling to his car until he got behind the wheel. 

The road stretched out in front of him, impossible and endless and terribly lonely. So achingly lonely. 

And the thing was, Neil was not sure if he was allowed to cease being lonely. And if he was, he wasn't sure if he knew how to let go of the self punishing solitude. Didn't think he was capable of it. 

And even if he did let go of all of his armor, would any of them even still want him? With all of his scars and faults and horrible, horrible mistakes, with his twisted, despicable family and the trail of lies he had already left behind, how could they still want him?

Allison's house disappeared in the rearview mirror, and Neil didn't look back once. 

+++

Monday arrived in the blink of an eye, and Neil found that he was not ready to face the world just yet. 

The weekend had passed in a blur of sleeplessness and not passing the threshold of his house. Walking out to his car on Monday morning was one of the hardest things he had ever done. 

Turning into the school parking lot was near impossible. So he passed it. 

Downtown Columbia was a nightmare in the morning, and the drive through for Starbucks was far too crowded, forcing Neil to park and walk inside. He didn't mind so much, as it took away from the time he was supposed to be at school. 

He ordered something random, hoping it would taste good, standing in the waiting line and staring at nothing. Soft music played in the background, but he didn't recognize it. 

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" a voice said behind him, and Neil jumped. 

He spun around to find Andrew standing behind him with a Dunkin Donuts box in his hand, his face impassive. 

Neil stared at him for a moment, a little untethered. 

"Do you not?" he countered finally, once he managed to find his voice again. 

Andrew had glasses on. Neil didn’t think he had ever seen Andrew wear glasses. Since when did he have glasses?

He looked… different. 

The soft morning light was pouring through the window behind Andrew, backlighting him in an unearthly glow that made Neil want to blink, but at the same time made him never want to close his eyes again. 

And, for some reason the glasses made Andrew himself look softer. More real, more reachable. Less marble and more flesh and bone, though no less unbreakable.

"No, I do," Andrew said, regaining Neil’s focus and making his stomach flip unexplainably, like he was falling. "I'm just choosing not to be there." 

Neil blinked at him. He didn’t disappear, didn’t evaporate, he just continued standing there with his Dunkin Donuts and ridiculously disarming glasses, observing Neil with keen eyes. 

"Uh huh," said Neil nodding. He watched Andrew take out a chocolate donut hole and stick it in his mouth, raising an eyebrow at Neil as if to ask for his excuse for playing hooky. 

"I have a study hall?" Neil attempted weakly. 

"I don't believe you," Andrew said immediately, and Neil winced. 

"That's probably for the best," he said. 

"Probably." Andrew tilted the Dunkin box towards Neil. "Donut?" 

Neil blinked at him again. He had no idea what was happening. 

Andrew simply waited for him, the donuts held out in offering. 

Neil shook his head just as his name was called. He went up to get his drink and stood there for a moment, realigning his brain. When he turned back around, Andrew was eating another donut. 

Neil was so confused.

Most of his weekend was spent freaking out about one thing or another, namely, the fact that he was stuck in Columbia, for the foreseeable future.

He didn't think about that when they moved, after his mother had been honorably discharged from the army, to be closer to his Uncle Stuart. 

He didn't think about it when they found a doctor and a therapist for his mother to see regularly. 

He didn't think about it when he got his car so he could drive himself to and from school every day because his mother couldn't anymore. 

Even as he piled permanence into his life, bit by bit, he didn't really, truly think about what it meant until he looked Andrew in the eye Friday night and said the words:  _ I'm not leaving. _

And then, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Couldn't stop replaying Andrew's question, over and over again in his head. 

_ Do you want to?  _

_ Leave? _

Did he? 

It was down to the point where Neil thought perhaps it wasn't that he wanted to leave, it was that he didn't know how to live like he wasn't going to leave, eventually. 

He only knew how to keep people at arms length, but in that exact moment, looking at Andrew with his glasses, framed by the morning light, for some reason, Neil wanted to relearn how to live. 

"Staring," said Andrew, without looking up from his box of donuts. Neil blinked. 

"Is that not allowed either?" he asked, a smile slowly spreading across his face, his coffee warm in his hands and a million questions crowding his head, a million emotions combatting for attention. He pushed it all aside in favor of focusing on the scowl he could coax out of Andrew’s usually impassiveness. "You know, because we're enemies." 

Andrew looked up to glare at him, and Neil allowed his smile to grow, hiding it behind his cup as he took a sip. 

Eventually, Andrew's name was called, and he was handed a drink with so much whipped cream Neil thought it might fall over out of the cup. 

"Got any coffee in there?" he asked, and Andrew flipped him off. 

They walked out of Starbucks together, an easy silence between them. Andrew didn't ask about the disaster that was Friday night, and Neil didn't say anything in return. Didn't think about anything. Didn’t dwell on anything at all.

Finally, Andrew stopped next to his car, and Neil realized they had parked basically right next to each other. 

"Wait," Neil said, before Andrew could open the door to get in, because he didn’t want to go to school just yet. Because he didn’t want to get into his car alone just yet. Because he wasn’t willing to stop talking to Andrew just yet. "I think we need to add some things to the secret language." 

Andrew paused for a moment, regarding him. "Fine," he said. 

"Okay, um." Neil rolled his cup between his hands, grasping at straws. He said the first thing that came to his head. "I thought we might need a way to let each other know that we have to say something. Like actually say something." Andrew was looking calmly at Neil, waiting for him to finish. Neil looked back down at his cup. "So like, we could rub our wrist or something, and then that means we need to find a place to talk later?" 

"Okay," Andrew said, after a pause. "I have another one." Neil looked back up at him. "This," Andrew said, running a finger across the collar of his black shirt, as if he were readjusting it, "means 'get me out of here', or 'make them stop talking to me'." 

Neil nodded, copying his movement. "Okay." 

"Okay," Andrew echoed. Then he turned away and unlocked his car. "Get to school, junkie," he said over his shoulder as he sunk into the driver's seat. "You're tardy."

Neil grinned, tapping two fingers to his temple in a salut, not caring if Andrew actually saw it or not and feeling lighter than he had all weekend. 

+++

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful.

Neil arrived at school around lunch time, managing to disappear in the swarm of hungry students heading for the cafeteria and slip into line without anyone noticing. 

When he finally made it to their designated table, Andrew was already there, pushing mashed potatoes around his plate with his head rested on one hand. 

His glasses were gone. 

“Neil!” Allison said joyfully, catching sight of him and smiling. “I thought you weren’t here today.” 

“Dentist appointment,” Neil said easily, tapping on the table twice. 

Andrew looked up just long enough to give him the most unimpressed look Neil had ever received. A moment later, he tapped the table twice in response. Neil fought back a smile. 

“Hey, we were just talking about you,” Allison said, poking his shoulder. “Renee’s car is in the shop, and you are literally the only other person that might possibly be free after school today- shut up Renee, let me help you- could you be a dear and drive her home?” 

“You don’t have to, Neil,” Renee said quickly, shaking her head at Allison. “I can ask my mom-”

“No, it’s fine,” Neil said, smiling at her. He didn’t think he had ever had an individual conversation with her before, and she kind of made him nervous, but it was fine. “I can drive you.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Renee’s smile was soft and lovely. “Thank you,” she said. 

Neil looked away, unsure what to do with her unwavering genuineness. 

Andrew caught his eye, raised an eyebrow. Neil looked away from him too. 

The rest of the day was kind of a blur, passing by without Neil really noticing, until it was time to leave and he was walking out the front door with Renee by his side. 

She was so easy to talk to, keeping up a steady stream of conversation that didn’t leave Neil feeling like he was trying to impress her. When she talked, everyone just listened, and when you talked to her, she gave you her undivided attention. 

Neil didn’t know what to make of her. 

To use Andrew’s words: she didn’t add up. 

“So Friday night,” Renee said as she got into the passenger seat of Neil’s car, and Neil stiffened. “You said your family was part of the military, right?” 

“Yeah,” Neil said, twisting the keys perhaps a little too aggressively in the ignition. 

“Now, forgive me if I'm being rude and you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I was wondering how many places you have been?” Neil didn’t look over at her, pulling out of the parking lot, but he could hear the warmth in her voice. “You must have seen so much of the world at such a young age.”

“Too many places to count,” Neil said, wondering how she picked up on his discomfort. He didn’t think he was  _ that _ obvious. 

“My parents were missionaries,” Renee explained. “In Korea first; I was adopted from there actually, when I was about thirteen. Then, when I was fifteen we moved to Thailand, but that didn’t last long.” Neil glanced over at her just in time to catch her smile. It was a small, melancholy thing, nostalgic. “I’ve only been in the United states since I was sixteen.”

“Wow,” Neil said, because it felt like the right thing to say. Then, before he could really think about it, he said, “Do you still speak Korean?” in the same language. 

“I do,” Renee replied, also in Korean, joy and surprise in her voice. Neil debated stopping the car and making a run for it, panic pulling at his heart strings, but then Renee continued, and Neil found that he missed that language. “We still speak it at home. My mother, Stephanie, absolutely loves learning new languages, and she’s always saying how much she regrets leaving Korea.” 

“It’s a beautiful place,” said Neil, understanding suddenly why Renee’s smile was so sad. 

He never really allowed himself to think back to all the places he had been, all the people he had met and the lives he had created for himself. It was easier to just keep moving forward because looking back was always far too painful. 

“We were in Korean for almost four years,” Neil said, still in Korean, looking straight ahead, his voice quiet. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to tell Renee this. Wanted to give her this one truth. “I think I really loved it there.” 

“So did I,” Renee replied, her voice just as quiet. 

They were both quiet for a moment, then Renee instructed him to turn left. 

“Andrew and I have this list,” Renee said, after another moment. “Of all the places we want to go together, someday.” Neil looked over at her again, and her normal smile was back, the joyful one. “It’s long, and completely unrealistic, but if we did end up doing it one day, I think you should join us. If you wanted to, of course.” 

Neil laughed, once, sarcastically. “I don’t think Andrew would be very happy if I tagged along.”

“What?” Renee said, straightening in her seat and looking at him. “Why do you say that?” 

Neil shrugged, finding the house number she had given him and turning into the driveway. “I don’t know,” he said, putting the car into park. “He doesn’t like me very much.”

“What?” Renee asked again. “Neil,” she said, and Neil looked at her. She had turned all the way in her seat so she was fully facing him. “Do you really think Andrew doesn’t like you?”

“I mean.” Neil shrugged again. “He says he hates me all the time, and all I do is annoy him.”

“Neil,” Renee said again, suddenly serious. “If Andrew didn’t want you to talk to him, he probably would have stabbed you by now. I’m serious, he doesn’t let very many people in.” She gave him a tiny, soft smile. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him let someone in so fast.” Neil blinked at her. Renee shook her head. “He doesn't hate you.”

Neil blinked again. “Oh,” he said. 

Renee tilted her head, and if Neil wasn’t mistaken, she had a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do you hate him?” she asked. 

Neil looked away, flustered, for some reason. “Of course not,” he said. Of course he didn’t hate Andrew. 

“Good,” Renee replied. Then she leaned forward a bit, and Neil leaned away. “Do you like him?”

Neil frowned. “Yes?” he said, uncertain. 

He did like Andrew. 

The parts of Andrew he had been given at least. 

Neil liked Andrew’s unwavering grip on the importance of balance and truth. He liked his honesty. Neil liked his detachment, but also his subtle involvement in everything. Neil liked the fact that, if he paid enough attention, he could tell when Andrew cared, and when he absolutely didn’t. He liked Andrew’s voice. He liked Andrew’s hair, and his hands, and his  _ glasses.  _

Neil really, really liked Andrew’s glasses.

Renee laughed softly, bringing Neil’s attention back to her. “Do you have a crush on Andrew?” she amended, straightforward and to the point. 

Neil stared at her.

_ What?  _

"Um, no?" he said. 

Renee hummed, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“I don’t,” he protested. She raised a single, perfect eyebrow. It was more intimidating than Neil would care to admit. “Renee, I do not. It’s just- we’re just-” Neil cut off, trying and failing to find the words. “It’s just… it’s Andrew,” he finished lamely. 

“It’s Andrew,” Renee agreed. 

“Oh my god, Renee, I do not have a crush on Andrew Minyard.” Neil ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t have crushes, full stop. I don’t swing, remember?”

“Okay,” Renee said, sounding serious, but she was still smiling. 

“Okay,” Neil echoed. 

Renee gave him one last look of consideration, then gathered up her stuff and climbed out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me, Neil,” she said, smiling at him through the open door. “I enjoyed talking to you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Neil replied automatically. 

“If you ever reconsider, I know I would love to have you tour the world with us in the distant future,” she said, and Neil hated that he believed her, he hated that he wanted to believe her. “Just remember that.” 

With that, she closed the door, and Neil watched her walk up her driveway and disappear into her house. 

Neil continued to sit there, staring at the blindingly white garage door, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles almost the same color. 

He did not have a crush on Andrew Minyard. 

Neil slammed his car into reverse and backed out of Renee’s driveway far too aggressively, speeding out of the neighborhood far too quickly, the thoughts in his head far too loud. 

He did not have a crush on Andrew Minyard. 

Of course not, it was ridiculous. 

He didn’t have a crush on  _ anyone. _

It was not  _ allowed. _

Neil saw the sign for his road. He passed it. 

All those years out in the world, being dragged along behind his mother as she went from base to base, then after, on the run, Neil grew to understand that to make connections, real, meaningful connections, and relationships with people, you have to give them a part of yourself, and you never know what that person is going to do with it. 

Too many times, Neil had given away a part of himself, trusted a new friend to hold a special corner of his heart, and had gotten hurt because of it. 

It wasn’t always on purpose. 

Sometimes, simply the act of leaving was enough to leave an open wound. 

But sometimes, it wasn’t simple at all, and eventually, Neil got tired of the dance. The timidity. The uncertainty.

_ Oh, Abram,  _ his mother had said, when he confided in her.  _ I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry. You do not have to tell anyone anything, you know that, right? You do not owe the world your heart.  _

That was before. 

All her kind words were from before. 

After… well, after, Mary Hatford lived and breathed fear, and more often than not, that fear bled into everything she told Neil. Everything she did. 

_ Trust no one, Abram, no one, you hear?  _ She would hold his wrists as she said it, shaking him.  _ We need to be invisible, you must speak to no one. No one at all.  _

Neil learned very quickly what disobedience meant. 

Allowing himself to be known, just to be inevitably hurt, was not worth the punishment. 

Neil turned on the radio, clicking to some random channel, and twisted it to full volume. The base shuddered through the car, drowning out everything else. 

He got onto the highway. 

The lyrics went straight through one ear and out the other, something about hallucinogens and falling and coming undone, it was all very dramatic. 

At one point he looked down at the speedometer and found that he was going way over the speed limit. He also found that he really didn't care. 

The song switched, changing to something slower, sadder. Neil didn't recognize it, but once the chorus started, it hit a little too close to home. Something about runaways. 

Neil turned the radio off. 

The resulting silence expanded in the car, pressing Neil to his seat, slamming the air from his lungs. He hit the rumble strips of the side of the road and his heart skipped a beat. 

He turned the radio back on, switched the station, found static, switched it again. 

Finally, he just went back to the first station, not thinking about the lyrics, not thinking about anything at all. 

The song switched again. 

He barely noticed. 

He kept going. 

Neil couldn’t tell how much time passed, or how much distance he covered, for that matter. It could have been hours or minutes, five miles or fifty, but in between the transition of two songs, something in the bowels of his car tripped and shuttered, growled and coughed. Within one second and the next, Neil was alert and ready, pulling over to the side of the highway just as the car gave out and came to a rolling stop. 

For a moment, he just sat there in mild disbelief. 

“Shit,” he muttered, twisting the key in the ignition, to no avail. “Shit, no. Fuck.” He climbed out of the car and popped the hood, peering into the mess of car parts that he had absolutely no clue what to do with. The extent of his car knowledge started and stopped with being able to drive and hot wire, nothing more and nothing less. 

A semi truck screamed past, dragging the air behind it and stirring up a mini windstorm to buffet Neil in its wake. He cursed again. 

He looked out into the road and knew he would have trouble hitchhiking. If he was close to a rest stop, maybe, but he didn’t even remember what the last exit was that he passed. 

His mother would kill him for being so careless, if she were here. 

For a second, Neil just stood at the hood of his car, regretting everything, when suddenly, he remembered his phone. He had a phone. 

He practically dove back into the car, grabbing his phone out of the cup holder and flipping it open, hoping desperately that it wasn’t dead. 

It wasn’t.

It was at thirteen percent. 

Neil cursed again, clicking to his contacts, and froze. 

There were only two names in his contacts list. 

Because he was an idiot, because he would rather memorise numbers than keep them stored permanently, because he hated using his phone with all of his being. 

One was Uncle Stuart, but Stuart didn’t have a car. Neil doubted he was sober right now anyway. His number was only for absolute emergencies, and absolute emergencies only ever involved Neil’s mother.

The other name was Andrew. 

Neil stared at it, confused as to how he managed to acquire Andrew’s number, then he remembered that day a band practice, in the shade, out of the sun. 

He continued to stare at it. 

The little percent number in the top corner of the screen jumped down to twelve. 

Neil cursed again, and before he could think better of it, pressed Andrew’s name. 

Andrew picked up after two rings. 

“Josten,” he said, in a way that Neil could only describe as pleasantly, except it was Andrew, so that didn’t really describe it at all. 

“Andrew,” Neil said, hoping he didn’t sound as strangled as he felt. “My phone is about to die.” 

“Then charge it,” Andrew replied, deadpan. 

“Um, I can’t?” Neil said. “My car doesn’t have an outlet,” even as he said it, he looked for one, coming up empty handed, “and I’m not even sure it would be able to charge anything right now anyway. It kinda also died. My car. I think. Maybe. I don’t know.” Neil let out a breathless, slightly hysterical laugh. “I didn’t know who else to call, and I don’t really have anyone else's number. I could probably try to hitchhike from here, but that could take forever, and I have a calc quiz tomorrow that I really shouldn't miss-”

“Neil,” Andrew cut him off, something in his voice changing. “Where are you?”

Neil hesitated, looking around at the miles and miles of nothing around him. “I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice so much smaller than he had meant it to be. Something on Andrew’s side of the phone shuffled and crashed. Neil heard him curse softly.

“I’m on the interstate,” Neil supplied helpfully. Andrew cursed again. 

“North or South?” he asked.

“North,” Neil replied. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” Andrew snapped. “Shut up. Stay where you are.” 

“I don’t have much choice,” Neil said, attempting humor.

“Just stay where you are, Neil,” Andrew replied, sounding not at all amused. “I swear, if you-”

Andrew’s voice cut off, and Neil pulled the phone away from his ear to find it dead. For some reason, the sight of the dark screen sent a curl of anxiety though his chest. He took a deep breath. It didn’t really help. 

Neil tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes until he saw static, sucking in another deep breath. 

He was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. 

To pass the time, and keep the silence at bay, Neil started to count as high as he could in every language he knew, crossing his arms on the steering wheel and resting his head on top in a feeble attempt to block out the rest of the world. 

He got through French, then German, then some Spanish, and he was starting on Korean when there was an insistent tap on the driver’s side window, making Neil jump and look up. 

It was Andrew, standing very close to the highway and glaring at Neil through the window. 

He was wearing his glasses again.

“I thought you said you weren’t leaving,” he said, as soon as Neil opened the door to get out. Neil didn’t answer, too busy grabbing Andrew by the sleeve and dragging him around to the other side of the car, away from the road, careful not to actually touch his arm. 

“Get out of the fucking road,” Neil muttered, letting go of Andrew’s sleeve and looking anywhere but at him. He spotted Andrew’s car parked behind his, focused on that. 

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled, and Neil noticed for the first time, the dark angry clouds gathering on the horizon.

“Neil,” Andrew said pointedly, and Neil glanced at him. 

“What?” Neil asked, his eyes skipping from Andrew’s glasses, to his right shoulder, to the little rings of blue on the edges of his ever-present, black armbands. Something fluttered in his stomach, like dying butterflies. Nausea climbed up his throat. 

“You said you weren’t leaving,” Andrew said again, his voice bored and flat.

Neil blinked, looked away. “I wasn’t leaving,” he said, crossing his arms in front of himself, a shield, realizing as soon as the words left his mouth just how untrue they were. 

“Liar,” Andrew said, and Neil was reminded, suddenly, violently, why he was out here in the first place. 

Neil pressed a hand against his mouth, looking at Andrew with his messy, golden hair, highlighted by the persistent rays of sunshine escaping just below the line of thunderclouds, his ridiculous glasses, his shoulders and his hands and his  _ voice,  _ and said, softly, “Shit.”

Neil had a crush on Andrew Minyard.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. Neil’s stomach flipped. “What is this about, Neil?”

“Shit,” Neil said again, dragging both hands through his hair, finding he was quite unable to look away from Andrew, even for a second. The clouds thickened behind him, heavy and ominous.

Andrew stepped closer, right in front of him, and Neil didn’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. 

“Breathe, Neil,” Andrew said. He’d been saying that to Neil a lot recently.

“I am breathing,” Neil protested quietly, even though he most definitely wasn’t. 

“You are not,” Andrew said. Neil’s gaze snagged on the light reflecting off his glasses, turning his eyes to honey and gold, then drifted down to his mouth and back up again. 

“I like your glasses,” Neil whispered. Andrew’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. Neil felt the same way, so he said it, just as quiet. “I’m confused.”

Andrew looked at him. “About what?”

“A lot of things.” 

“Okay,” Andrew said, carefully, quietly. “Name one.” 

“You,” Neil whispered, surprising them both. 

“Me?” 

“You are not my answer,” Neil said, like a secret. 

Andrew tilted his head ever so slightly. “I’m not,” he agreed. 

“And I will never be yours.”

“You won’t.”

“But…” Neil trailed off as Andrew stepped closer.

“What is this about, Neil?” Andrew asked again, his voice low and dark and heavy, just like the clouds behind him. A raindrop hit Neil’s cheek.

Neil felt like a whole swarm of butterflies was trapped in his ribcage, eating him alive in the softest way possible, a cacophony of delicate wings and heady dances as they ripped themselves to shreds and filled his lungs; a sweet kind of suffocation. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. 

“I like your glasses,” Neil whispered, again. 

Andrew blinked. 

And then, impossibly, as sudden as a flash of lightning and just as blinding, just as fleeting, Andrew smiled. 

It was a tiny, inexplicable thing, just a sweet curve of his lips as understanding dawned in his eyes, but Neil caught it, saw it, he knew he did, and everything inside him froze, held its breath. 

“Oh,” Andrew said. He stepped ever closer. 

“Oh,” Neil echoed, eyes catching on Andrew’s mouth, unable to look away.

Another raindrop landed right below Neil’s eye. Andrew reached out as if to brush it away, but stopped but before his thumb made contact with Neil’s skin. The coarse grass at the edge of the highway scraped at his ankles. 

“I want to kiss you,” Andrew said. “Yes or no?”

Neil exhaled. He could hear the drum of the rain, rapidly approaching, matching the thunder of his pulse. “Yes,” he breathed, so Andrew kissed him. 

Neil’s world stopped and restarted with the first press of Andrew’s mouth. 

For a moment, that was the only point of contact, and then Andrew’s hands found their way up to Neil’s face, holding him gently, dragging his thumb across Neil’s cheek, wiping the rain away even as the skies opened up above them in a violent downpour. Neil gasped into Andrew’s mouth, soaked in seconds, and Andrew pulled away. 

“Car,” Andrew said, breathlessly, less than composed. Neil could do nothing but nod, reaching for the door handle of the backseat, but Andrew’s hand shot out to stop him, shaking his head. “Not that one.” 

Andrew didn’t let go of his hand, using it to drag Neil towards his own car, picking up the pace until suddenly, they were sprinting through the rain, hand in hand, giddy adrenaline coursing through their veins. 

A laugh burst out of Neil’s mouth, and for once, he wasn’t thinking about the last time he had laughed like that. For the first time, all he was thinking about was the pound of his feet and the warmth of Andrew’s palm in his own. All he could focus on was the rain in his hair, the droplets caught in Andrew’s eyelashes that he stole a glimpse of as Andrew pushed him into the backseat and crawled in after him. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Andrew murmured, so Neil tucked his arms behind his back and let Andrew kiss him senseless. 

Neil did not understand why they had not been doing this the entire time. He did not understand why it took him so long to get to this point. He deeply regretted every moment he had spent previous to this not kissing Andrew. 

He wondered, distractedly, if there was any way he could invent a time machine and do it over, find Andrew sooner. He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came, not wanting anything other than this moment, and what led him to it. 

Much sooner than Neil would have liked, Andrew pulled away, tolerating Neil’s persistent following for a second, before placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back down, gently. 

“Tow truck,” Andrew said, still halfway on top of Neil, his lips a vivid red line. 

Neil swallowed. “Right.” 

“I called one.” 

Both of Neil’s arms were starting to fall asleep. He didn’t move. “Okay.” 

Andrew looked out the back window. “It’s right there.” 

Neil cursed, and Andrew got off of him, climbing over the center console and into the driver’s seat just in time for a woman to come up to the window with an umbrella to tap on the glass.

Neil honestly did not hear a single word of their conversation, too busy finding his breath and forcing it back into his lungs, where it belonged. He blinked and the woman was gone, and the tow truck was being hooked up to his car. 

“Get up here,” Andrew said, turning on his own car and making sure the coast was clear before pulling onto the highway. Neil did what he was told. 

“Andrew?” he said, after a moment, sitting on his hands to keep them from wandering.

“Mm?” Andrew said in response, his eyes fixed on the road. 

“We get to do that again, right?” 

Andrew shot him a look before sighing in the most long suffering way possible. “Yes, Neil,” he said, and Neil smiled, bright and fierce. “But only if you want to.” 

“Okay,” Neil said. “Good.” And then, just to clarify: “I want to.”

“Oh my god,” Andrew said, turning on his blinker and pulling off the highway and onto an exit. “I fucking hate you.”

Neil laughed, following the trail of pink tipping Andrew’s ears down to the back of his neck with his eyes. “Somehow,” he said, “everytime you say that, I believe you less and less.” 

“Fuck you.”

“That might be a little difficult, seeing as you’re driving-”

“Okay,” Andrew said over him, cutting him off. “You’re going to shut up now, and I am going to turn this music on, and you’re not going to talk to me for the rest of the way home, or I will purposefully crash this car, and when we both die, I will haunt you from the rest of time.” 

Neil had to bite his tongue to keep himself from completely losing it, only managing to nod as Andrew turned the volume of the music all the way up. 

They listened to songs that Neil was certain he already knew, but felt like he was hearing again for the first time, all the way back to Columbia. 

  
  



	5. un·con·di·tion·al  /ˌənkənˈdiSH(ə)n(ə)l/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A corn maze! I love corn mazes! Also, Renee being the way she is, again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, greetings. I hope you enjoy this lovely new chapter. Neil wears a beanie, so get excited. 
> 
> Also, I have given up on end notes bc ao3 hates me, so here is your reminder that I am always curious about what you thought :)
> 
> TW: implied abuse, descriptions of physical abuse, implied self harm, implied non con

Andrew 

“Renee!” Allison shouted from across the hall, and Andrew almost kept going, if not for her next words. “Renee, tell your monster that we’re having a band wide pumpkin patch visit this afternoon.” 

Renee and Andrew both stopped in their tracks, Renee turning around to face Allison while Andrew did not. 

“Allison,” Renee said gently. “He is not my anything, nor is he a monster.” How she still managed to sound calm and kind continued to amaze Andrew. “And he’s right here, so you can ask him yourself.” 

Andrew shot her an unreceived look of betrayal, not wanting to talk to Allison anymore then Allison wanted to talk to him. 

“Fine,” Allison said, sounding slightly chastised. “I’m sorry. Andrew.” Only then did Andrew turn around, leveling Allison with a heavy, blank stare. She rolled her eyes. “The band is going to a pumpkin patch today. You are part of the band, therefore, invited. Congratulations.” 

“Allison,” Renee said, her tone scolding. 

“What?” Allison asked, and then Andrew stopped caring because Neil walked up and joined their little circle in the middle of the hallway.

Andrew had not seen him since the night before, when they got to Neil’s house just as it was getting dark, and sat in Neil’s driveway until Andrew had asked, “What are you waiting for? We’re here.” And Neil had replied with a hopeful, “One more?”

Andrew had not seen Neil since pulling him in by the collar one last time and kissing him one last time, and Neil definitely hadn’t changed all that much in one night, but somehow, something had changed; Andrew was not anywhere near ready to address it, so he tried to keep his face as blank as possible and met Neil’s stare with one of his own. 

Neil had the audacity to smile, the bastard.

“Pumpkin patch?” Neil asked breaking eye contact first, and Allison jumped, clearly having not noticed his arrival. 

“Neil!” she exclaimed, as she always did when he appeared, delighted and joyful, kind of like she was greeting a puppy. “Hi, hello. Yes, we are going to a pumpkin patch after school today. The band is.”

“Okay,” Neil said, nodding. He glanced at Andrew, once, and then twice, a smile dancing around in the corners of his mouth. Andrew wanted to strangle him. “Why?” 

For a second, Allison just gaped at him. “Neil,” she said shrilly, “have you never been to a pumpkin patch before?” 

“No?” Neil said, sounding unsure. 

“Oh my god.” Allison turned to Renee, horror on her face. “Oh my god.”

“It’s just pumpkins, right?” Neil asked, looking at Andrew in confusion. Andrew just looked right back at him, unwilling to help in any way. 

“No, Neil,” Allison said, sounding offended and sad at the same time. “It’s not just pumpkins. It’s homemade donuts and apple cider and corn mazes and general fall aesthetics.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Neil said. Allison looked pained. 

“Oh god, we need to fix this,” she said. “We need to fix this immediately, Neil, you need to know these things.” She grabbed Neil’s arm and started dragging him away. The tardy bell rang; Andrew was late for Calc. “Are you free this afternoon? Too bad, you’re coming anyway.” Allison’s voice trailed off down the hallway, and Andrew still didn’t move. 

“You going?” Renee asked from beside him. 

Andrew looked at her and then away, catching her tiny, knowing smile. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he said, starting towards the Calc room; her soft laughter followed him all the way there.

+++

Andrew hated the cold. 

He hated it so much. 

He hated that the promise of much colder days and nights rode on the chilly wind as it stirred the vibrant leaves that clung to the trees for dear life. He hated that it wasn’t even that cold yet, that it didn’t actually get that cold in South Carolina, but his body still insisted that even the slightest drop in temperatures was the end of the world. 

He wished he would have brought gloves.

He wasn’t even sure if he owned a pair of gloves. 

“Thanks for driving me, Andrew,” Nicky said cheerfully as he got out of the car with Aaron not far behind him. “Also, I hope you noticed, your car is making funny sounds, you might want to get that looked at.” 

Andrew did not reply, as he did, in fact, know that his car was making funny noises, and he also knew that Nicky’s attention would be diverted to something or someone else in the next few seconds, so he didn’t need to respond anyway. 

Right on cue, Nicky yelled Kevin’s name and ran over to the steadily growing group of band kids by the entrance to the corn maze. Aaron and Andrew followed at a much slower pace. 

Aaron was limping, slightly.

Andrew didn’t say anything. Had already said something that morning and now, Aaron hadn’t said a word to him all day. 

It was fine, if Andrew ignored it for the time being, which he was very good at. He usually kept all of his messy, annoying emotions at bay with the sheer force of his will, until night fell and there was nothing to distract him from his horrible thoughts except for even worse memories and crippling insomnia. 

Which he also didn’t think about. 

Still, if he didn’t get his hands on a cup of hot apple cider in the next few minutes, he might punch someone. That was completely unrelated, though. 

“Hello, Andrew,” Renee said, appearing beside him. Her hair was in two little platinum blonde space buns that looked effortless but were probably far more complicated than that. “Looking for someone?” 

Andrew glared at her. “I should start coming to these things with knives,” he muttered, and then, in Korean, just because he could, and because it was Renee, he said, “don’t think I won’t.” 

“Won’t what?” Neil’s voice said, but also in Korean, and Andrew spun around to find him standing behind him with two cups in his hands and a stupid grin on his face. Neil offered him one of the cups. 

“Is that poisoned?” Andrew asked, in English because he didn’t know nearly enough vocabulary yet. 

“Yup,” Neil replied immediately. Andrew accepted it and took a sip. 

“Hi, Renee,” Neil said, giving her a little toast with his cup. 

“Hi, Neil,” Renee replied, mirroring him. 

“Allison was looking for you,” Neil said casually. “She’s still in line.”

“Is she?” Renee asked, a smile taking over her face that Andrew did not trust for one second. “Well I’d better go see what she wants.” She gave Andrew a little private smile, which he chose to completely ignore. “Don’t kill each other while I'm gone,” Renee said, over her shoulder. 

“No promises,” Andrew muttered into his cider, and Neil laughed. 

“Is she teaching you Korean?” Neil asked, tipping his head in the direction that Renee went. Andrew took another sip of his cider. 

“Among other things,” he replied. Neil looked far too cozy in his pale blue sweater and black beanie, his dark auburn curls spilling out over his forehead. Andrew wanted to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. Or both. 

Yeah, definitely both. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Neil asked with a shit eating grin, and then Andrew just wanted to punch him. 

“I will pour this on you,” he threatened, and then Allison was arriving to sling one arm around Neil’s shoulders, Renee at her side. 

“Okay quit it,” Allison said, even though they hadn’t been doing anything. “Both of you. You’re stressing me out. Renee,” she turned to Renee, accusatory. “Why did you leave them alone together?” Renee just smiled at her demrely, but Allison was already moving on. “You guys literally don’t have to talk to each other if you don't want to, blood doesn't need to be shed. Andrew, I could feel your death glare from all the way over there, and you weren’t even glaring at me. Neil, stop antagonizing Andrew, he can and will stab you.” 

Andrew and Neil just looked at her, neither offering up any corrections or explanations. Allison sighed. 

“Just don’t murder each other in the maze, okay?” she said, then pulled Renee after her, obviously assuming Neil and Andrew would follow, which they did. 

Andrew had no idea why she was so fixed on the idea of them hating each other, but he didn’t really care what she thought about him, so he let it go. 

Also, she wasn’t wrong. 

He did hate Neil. He really did. 

Expesscially when he looked so fucking soft and kissable. 

Andrew quickly got tired of following the others around and around in circles, so when no one was looking, he tugged on Neil’s sleeve and led him a different way, not really caring if he was going the right direction, just wanting to be away. 

Neil followed him easily, eventually taking the lead, until Andrew looked around and found not a soul near them, and reached out to drag Neil back to face him. 

“Hi,” Neil said, once they were close enough that their noses were brushing. Andrew glared at him. 

“Yes or no?” he asked, because he was weak. 

“Yes,” Neil responded, but Andrew was already kissing him before he finished the word, needy and freezing and desperate for Neil’s mouth on his, even after just one night. 

Neil laughed into it, and Andrew swallowed the sound, tasting apple cider and pressing his frozen fingertips to the warmth at the base of Neil’s neck, into the curls escaping from under his beanie. 

Neil gasped at his touch, shivering and whispering, “Cold,” into Andrew’s mouth. Andrew bit his lower lip in retaliation. 

Just as Andrew was about to try and discover where else he could put his mouth, they heard familiar voices approaching and far too close for comfort. For a second they just looked at eachother, listening. 

Then Neil, eyes glittering, mouth a wild red slash, color high in his cheeks, whispered, “Run for it.” So they did. 

That time, Andew let Neil grab his hand and lead, rounding corner after corner, only to stop and backtrack at the sound of Kevin’s voice in front of them. He let Neil drag him through the corn, definitely cheating, narrowly avoiding the rest of the band, who had seemingly split up into several groups, caught up in Neil’s quiet, giddy laughter, caught up in the breathless heady thrill, caught up in his own thundering heartbeat.

Andrew felt like there was a lightness in his chest that wasn’t his own, a helium balloon trapped in his ribs that kept expanding, taking him to the sky along with it. 

But the thing was. 

The thing. Was. 

He had never been very good with heights, and this was no different. This was no safer. Balloons did not float up and up and up forever, penetrating the atmosphere and vanishing into space; they had to come down again, at some point.

Andrew was not sure he would survive falling like that a second time. 

He wasn't sure he wanted to. 

Suddenly, they burst through the last layer of corn, still cheating, and encountered not more corn, but an empty field. The sound of people talking and laughing was somehow lounder out there than it was in the maze itself.

Neil laughed, breathless and proud, and Andrew threw his empty cider cup at him. Neil caught it, somehow. 

“Rabbit,” Andrew said. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands. 

“Excuse me?” Neil asked, still grinning. 

“You are such a rabbit,” Andrew said, tugging on Neil’s hand. “Running from everything and everyone.” 

Neil winced for half a second before scrunching up his face at Andrew in what was probably supposed to be a glare, but had absolutely no effect. None at all. It was definitely not cute. 

“Mean,” Neil said. “You were running too.”

“Unwillingly.” 

Neil laughed, and Andrew wanted to kiss him again. Oh god, he wanted to kiss him again.

He didn’t though. Settled for scoffing and leading the way back around the outside of the maze to the front. 

Neither of them let go of the other’s hand until they were almost around the last corner, and even then, it felt reluctant. 

It made Andrew want to scream, to grab Neil’s hand back and never let go, to drag him away from the crowds and the people they knew, and the expectations, and just drive until they hit the sun as it drifted below the horizon. 

It terrified him. 

“Pretend like we’re arguing,” Neil whispered to him, as they finally did round the last corner, spotting most of the others at the exit to maze, getting their congratulatory suckers. 

“It’s that not what we were just doing?” Andrew asked, just to be contrary. Neil flipped him off. 

“Just do it,” he said, and then held up his other hand so he was flipping Andrew off with both. 

Andrew raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“It is not my fault that you are completely incompetent and have absolutly no sense of direction,” he said, on a whim, and Neil laughed. 

“You did not have to follow me,” Neil retorted, fully in character now. “I did not ask you to trail behind me like a lost puppy.” 

“If anyone’s a lost puppy, it’s you,” Andrew said. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t trip and impale yourself on a stalk of corn. Or frighten the small children.”

“Fuck you,” Neil said, heated, but there was wild amusment in his eyes. 

“Hardly enough time,” Andrew replied, and then Nicky was running up to get between them before things got ugly. Andrew didn’t miss Neil’s smirk. 

“Woah, hi guys,” Nicky said, holding out his hands to keep them away from each other. “Hello. Deep breaths. Also, why the hell did you come out of that side of the maze? That’s not the exit.” 

“Well, Nicky,” Andrew started, before Neil could even open his mouth. “Neil here decided that it might be a good idea to go off on his own and beat everyone out of the maze. No one noticed of course, excpt me, so I decided to take one for the team and make sure he didn’t fall into any holes and break his neck.”

“You literally did not,” Neil protested, trying to get past Nicky. “You said, ‘hey, Neil, look, It’s a short cut,’ and because I am occasionally, exceptionally stupid, I listened to you.” 

“So you admit it then?” Andrew asked, smug.

“What?”

“You’re stupid.”

Neil sniffed at him. “I am not ashamed of my flaws.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Renee!” Nicky called desperately. “Help!”

Renee seemed to materialize out of thin air, looking between the three of them with barely concealed amusement. 

“Any blood yet?” she asked. 

“How many people have you taught Korean, Renee?” Neil asked, in Korean. Nicky did a double take. 

“Just Andrew,” she replied, in the same language. 

“Wonderful,” Neil said, then he started speaking rapid fire, aggressive Korean, all aimed at Andrew. 

Andrew didn’t know enough to catch all of it, but he thought he heard the words ‘bad at running’ and ‘best enemy’ and he didn’t really want to know the rest. 

“I’m not translating that,” Renee said, but Andrew could tell that she was biting back a smile. Neil smirked. 

“You are insufferable,” Andrew said, in Korean, confident because it was one of the first things he taught himself how to say, after the curse words. 

“Alright,” Renee said finally, allowing her smile to show. “That's enough you two. Time for some pumpkin picking.” 

And of course, because she was Renee, they listened. 

Renee hooked an arm around each of theirs, silently asking permission first, and gently led them over to the pumpkins. Neil threw Andrew a wink over his shoulder, so, naturally, Andrew flipped him off one last time. 

Neil’s laughter sounded like the leaves looked as they turned steadily brighter under the autumn sun, changing from greens to golds and reds and oranges. 

+++

Band practice the next day was unusually painful. 

There was a point where it was just the drumline and colorguard outside together, waiting for the band proper to show up. Already, it was a bad combination.

For some reason, Neil thought it would be a good idea to have them all switch, to have the colorguard put on the drums and the drumline attempted to twirl the flags. Andrew was convinced someone was going to die. 

Of course, Renee was unfairly good at twirling Allison’s flag, graceful and unafraid. Allison didn’t even attempt to play the quads, too busy watching Renee with something close to awe in her eyes. 

Andrew flatly refused to even touch a flag, as last time one had given him a bloody nose, but Neil joyfully took a snare from a drumline member that Andrew hadn't bothered to learn the name of. 

And of course,  _ of fucking course, _ Neil could play the snare. 

And he was  _ good at it.  _

He stuck his blue Airhead in his mouth- he always seemed to be sucking on one during band- and flipped the sticks in the air, easily, before rapping out a rhythm that had all of the drumline members stopping to stare. Half way through he started switching the drumsticks between his hands in a complicated looking pattern. 

Andrew was hopelessly impressed. 

Not that he would ever tell anyone, ever. Still. 

It just got worse from there.

After band practice was over, Aaron caught a ride with Kevin to their Thursday night Orchestra rehearsal, because they didn’t have enough music in their lives as it was, which meant Andrew was free to take as long as he wanted packing up his stuff and getting out to his car. Which also meant he was undefended from unwanted conversation with a certain redhead. 

“Andrew,” Neil said, catching up to him just as he opened the door to the outside world, a chilly breeze spilling in through the gap.

“Idiot,” Andrew greeted him evenly. He definitely did not look just a second too long at the blue stain on the inside of Neil’s lips from the blue Airhead he was eating earlier. Definitely did not think about kissing him. Again. 

Neil stuck his tongue out at Andrew. 

It was also blue. 

Andrew was still definitely not thinking about kissing him. 

“When’s your birthday?” Neil asked. Andrew didn’t hold the door open for him, he just kept walking. 

“I don’t remember,” Andrew said, his voice flat. “Ask my clone.” 

Neil laughed, once, and Andrew thought he saw him shudder out of the corner of his eye. 

“No thanks,” Neil said. “Aaron makes my eye twitch.” 

“That makes two of us,” Andrew muttered.

“And he can’t stand me.”

“That makes two of us,” Andrew said again. Neil laughed. 

“Seriously, when’s your birthday?”

“When’s yours?” 

Neil hesitated. “March. 30th.” 

“You don’t sound sure about that.” 

Neil laughed again, humorless. “Fine,” he said, but he sounded a little strangled. “That’s when I celebrate my birthday. If at all.” 

Andrew stopped walking. Neil noticed about four steps later and back tracked to face him again. 

“Okay,” Andrew said, his voice steady. He searched Neil’s face, finding a tightness there that he didn’t like. A pinch in the corner of his mouth, a shadow in his eyes, all the seams of the mask he put in place. Andrew could tell when someone was hiding inside themselves, behind walls shaped to look like smiles or indifference, he did it everyday. “My birthday is in November. I’d rather not celebrate it at all.” 

Neil nodded, accepting that. A truth for a truth. His mask stayed in place. Andrew wanted, suddenly, to see it crumble. 

As soon as that thought entered his head, he was horrified with himself. 

Andrew didn’t want to be the kind of person that ripped others apart just to see what they held inside. He never, ever wanted to take what he wasn’t yet given.

He couldn’t be like  _ them. _

Andrew took a deep breath. 

They kept walking. 

“Andrew?” Neil asked, once they reached their respective cars, once again, parked next to each other. 

“What?” 

Neil hesitated again. Andrew waited. “Nevermind,” he said eventually, brushing it off. 

Andrew watched Neil get into his car and smile at him, tight and small, unsure what to do with that. Something just as tight and unsettling as Neil’s smile settled into his stomach; he didn’t know what to do with that either. 

He got into his own car only after Neil pulled away from his spot and drove away. 

The entire ride home he spent thinking about the tension in Neil’s voice, in his eyes. 

As always, the radio was turned on full blast, and the next song to play nearly made Andrew run into the other side of traffic on purpose.  _ Ocean Eyes,  _ by Billie Eilish. Halfway through, he turned it up, the lyrics hitting just a little too close to home for him to leave it at a regular volume. 

It made him want to strangle someone. 

He pulled into the driveway of his house just as the song finished, cutting the power before another one could start, and for a moment, he just sat there in silence, staring at the white glare of his knuckles. Tried not to think. 

Eventually, not thinking became too much, too heavy, so he heaved himself out of his car, fully intending on holing himself up in his room for the rest of eternity, listening very loud music that had little to no meaning and a lot of bass, until he lost at least ninety percent of his hearing. 

He didn’t make it quite that far. 

Andrew barely got through the front door before he heard heavy footsteps descending the stairs, and between one moment and the next, Tilda came around the corner, fury in her eyes. She didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate, bringing her open palm across Andrew’s face hard enough to send him careening into the opposite wall, his temple finding the corner of a picture frame and shooting stars into his skull. 

“Where is it?” Tilda hissed, her voice low and deadly. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, slamming his head into the wall again. His vision cut to black for one second, two. “What did you do with it?” 

Andrew could only gasp, everything in him rebelling at her body caging him in, her hands pinning him down, but his arms lacked the power to lift, let alone push her off. 

“I know you took them, Aaron,” Tilda spat, slapping him again. He felt the sting on every surface of his body, in his veins. The old, familiar, blinding rage surgered to just below the surface of his skin. He held onto it, because he always did. He always, always did. “I’m going to fuckng kill you,” Tilda said, and Andrew saw red. 

“Fuck you,” Andrew said, in the same tone of voice she was using with him, just as low, just as poisoned. 

He saw the exact moment it dawned on her. 

The exact moment she realized, he was not Aaron. 

He saw her rage turn to repulsion, and he fought not to spit in her face. She didn’t let go of him. 

“Where the hell is Aaron?” she asked. 

Andrew stared at her, channeling every ounce of hatred into his gaze. Her repulsion deepened, and she let go of him, wiping her hands off on her shirt, like she could erase the reality of him from her skin. Andrew wasn’t going to tell her shit about where Aaron was. 

“Get out,” Tilda snapped, once she realized Andrew would be no help to her, turning away from him to the dark interior of the house. 

Andrew didn’t need to be told twice. 

He didn't remember getting his phone out, or pressing dial, but as he was pulling out of the driveway, Renee's voice filtered through the haze of his anger, through the ringing in his ears. 

"Andrew?" she asked, in a voice that suggested she had already tried to get his attention, tiny through the speaker. 

"Basement," he choked out, hating how strangled he sounded. "Five minutes." 

He hung up before she could respond. 

He didn’t need her. He’d get in with or without her. It didn’t matter. 

The doors to the old whitewashed church basement were already unlocked when he got there. He ignored the relief that flooded through him, pretended it was satisfaction at the easy access, pretended the steadying breath he drew in was just appreciation for the cool air conditioned release from the uncannily hot autumn day. 

Renee looked up from taping her hands when he entered the room, her expression going from open and welcoming to concerned and guarded in a split second. 

“Andrew,” she said, dropping the tape and standing, slowly. “You’re bleeding.” 

Andrew blinked at her, brought a hand up to brush at his temple and pulled it away to find his fingertips red. He stared at them. It must have been the picture frame. 

He wondered, absently, if there was blood on the wall in the foyer. 

“Hey,” Renee’s soft voice broke through his thoughts, closer than before. Andrew didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. “Andrew, I need you to sit down.” He let her guide him to the chair she had been sitting in, wondered if the air was thinner down here than above ground, wondered if that made any sense. 

He couldn’t stop staring at his hands. 

He pressed the tips of his fingers, the ones with the blood on them, into his opposite palm, digging his nails in and pulling them away to gaze at the red rimmed half moon marks left behind. 

“Andrew.” Renee again. “Can I touch your head?” 

Andrew thought about it, tucked a red tipped finger under the edge of one armband, feeling the little embroidered flowers there. He took a deep breath, nodded. 

“I need you to say it, Andrew.” He took another breath, and came up short. It wasn’t enough. “Yes or no?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, unable to do anything else. It was Renee. It was just Renee. “Just my head. And keep talking.” 

“Okay,” Renee said, just as softly. “I’m going to clean it up first. I can’t tell yet, but you might need stitches.” 

Andrew closed his eyes, letting her soothing voice wash over him as she talked about nothing in particular. She warned him before she did anything, before she touched him at all, and in that moment, a feeling so deep, so clear and all encompassing seemed to seep out of his bones into every corner of his body. Shivers flew up his spine, down his arms; he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, so he didn’t. 

“Hold this,” Renee said, guiding his hand up to press some gauze to his temple. “Here.” She handed him her water bottle, already opened. He took a tiny sip. “As long as it stops bleeding soon, I don’t think you should need stitches.”

Andrew didn’t respond. 

Renee accepted his silence easily, knowing when to back off, and for several minutes, they just sat there, neither saying anything. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not even close. Renee had a way of turning any silence into a peaceful calm, and Andrew fed off of it, collecting it in his lungs for safe keeping. 

After an indeterminable amount of time, Renee checked under the gauze, and deeming it fine, traded it for a little butterfly bandage. 

Once again, emotions swelled in his chest, clawing up his throat, and Andrew didn’t know what to do about it, so he said, very softly, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Andrew,” Renee replied.

He took another sip of water. 

It tasted coppery, earthy the way most public water always seemed to. 

It reminded him, suddenly, achingly, inexplicably, of the water he used to get out of the tap in that bright yellow kitchen, the one with all the little pots of succulents on the window sill, and with one fell swoop, he was transported back three years to a house filled with equal amounts of sunlight and laughter, and shadows and monsters. 

The glass of water in his hand became a mug of lemon grass tea with copious amounts of honey and sugar because hot chocolate was saved for the winter. His armbands became long sleeves in the middle of July, and a dull, throbbing ache in his forearms directly countered the smile he forced on his face. It always made Cass so happy when he smiled, so he tried to do it more, for her. Somewhere in the background, classical music wafted up from artfully hidden speakers. 

There was a kind of peace in that kitchen too, just a little different. That peace felt like it was demanding something from Andrew. That peace felt as if he somehow had to be good enough to keep it, to hold on to it. 

He hadn’t been enough. 

“I can make you another pair.” Renee’s voice snapped him back to the present, and he looked down to find his fingers tracing unidentifiable patterns in his armbands. “Those are getting kind of worn.” 

She was right. They were kind of fraying at the edges, and some of the embroidery on the inside had unraveled, leaving little blue threads peeking out. Andrew took his hand away, looking directly at Renee for the first time since he got there. She met his gaze unwaveringly, an unbearable kindness in her eyes. 

_ Unconditional, _ his mind supplied, and for once, he didn’t immediately push the thought away.

It was Renee. It was just Renee. 

“Do what you want,” Andrew said roughly, ripping his gaze away and standing. He still caught her small smile. 

“Be safe,” she said after him. He didn’t acknowledge her, but he knew he didn’t need to. She didn’t mind.

That peace followed him out of the old church and into the dying light of the evening outside, and he let it.


	6. haunt·ed  /ˈhôn(t)əd/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> French fries! A haunted house that is not really that at all! Swimming pools! Have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay so this chapter is like, really long, and I'm just noticing so. Enjoy. 
> 
> Once again, ignore the ending notes. They have already had their time to shine and now they're just the worst. But it's fine.
> 
> TW: descriptions of panic attacks, descriptions of past abuse
> 
> Let me know if I missed anything, and tell me what you thought!

Neil

Neil almost jumped out of his skin when his phone vibrated on the counter next to where he was heating up leftovers on the stove. He glanced towards his mother’s room, where the nurse Stuart insisted they employ was giving his mother a checkup, like he would somehow get in trouble for looking at his own phone. 

When no one came down the hallway, he opened his phone to find a message from Andrew. 

**A:** doing anything important rn?

**N:** no?

**A:** are you sure about that 

**N:** yes?

**A:** oh my god

**N:** what?

**A:** nevermind

**A:** just

**A:** nevermind

**N:** okay?

**A:** you can stop using question marks now you don’t need anymore 

**N:** ????

**A:** I’m having second thoughts

**N:** about what?

**A:** I'm outside

Neil almost dropped his phone. 

He stood on his tiptoes to be able to see out of the window over the sink, and sure enough, Andrew’s car was sitting in his driveway. He could just make out Andrew’s blonde hair in the darkness. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, but he was also smiling. 

He cast another look down the hallway towards his mother’s room, allowing himself to hesitate for half a moment before he was running to the door and throwing it open. 

Andrew looked up at his approach, his window already down and a cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“What the fuck,” Neil said again, as he got closer, for Andrew’s benifit. Andrew just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you always this eloquently spoken?” Andrew asked, smoke tumbling from his mouth as he removed the cigarette. 

“Fuck off,” Neil said, but he was still smiling. “What are you doing?” 

“Smoking,” Andrew replied, because he was insufferable. Neil snagged the cigarette in retaliation, taking a drag. It tasted horrible. 

“Not anymore,” Neil said, blowing the smoke in Andrew’s general direction. Andrew’s face was unreadable. “What are you doing  _ here _ ?” 

Andrew shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking from Neil’s eyes to his mouth and back. 

“Wasting my time, probably,” he said. 

“Probably,” Neil agreed. He took another drag, screwing up his face that time. It really did taste awful. He prefered the smell. 

“Come with me,” Andrew said suddenly, offering, asking. Neil raised an eyebrow, he definitely didn’t look nearly as cool as Andrew when he did it, but he didn’t care.

“Where are we going?” 

“If I told you,” Andrew said, the ghost of a smile in his eyes. “I’d have to kill you.” 

Neil laughed, throwing a look back at his house, at the light on in the kitchen. 

It would be fine. 

His mother wasn’t alone. 

It would be fine. Probably. Maybe. 

He looked back at Andrew, who was studying him. 

“Well,” Neil said, moving to get in on the other side of the car. “If you put it that way.” 

Andrew barely waited for him to have the door closed before backing out into the road and pressing the accelerator to the floor. 

Somewhere between Neil’s house and downtown, Andrew stole his cigarette back, coaxing it to life again and letting the smoke escape through the open window. 

It was warm, for an October night. 

Wow, wait, it was October. 

It had been just under five months since Neil had arrived in Colombia.

Less, since he had met Andrew. Since he had met all of them. 

It felt like more. It felt like a lifetime. 

It felt like nothing at all. 

It felt almost circular, somehow, kind of making Neil feel dizzy, untethered, so he looked over at Andrew, to ground himself. The light from passing streetlamps played across Andrew’s face, haloing, then highlighting, then disappearing all together. It was mesmerizing. 

“Staring,” Andrew said, flicking on his turn signal. Neil didn’t bother correcting him. Then, as the car was turning, the light caught the other side of Andrew’s face, the side facing Neil, and Neil paused. 

“Andrew,” he said. “What happened to your face?” 

Andrew didn’t look at him, turning into a drive through to some fast food restaurant. 

“A picture frame,” he replied, his voice flat. 

Neil stared at him. “Someone threw a picture frame at you?” he asked, horrified. 

“No,” Andrew said, stopping at the drive through menu. Only then did he turn to face Neil. “Want anything?” 

“What?” Neil asked. Andrew waited patiently for Neil to form a coherent sentence. “Wait,” Neil said, distracted, his mind going a million different directions at once. “this is the super secret place you’re taking me?” 

“No,” Andrew said again. “Do you want anything?” 

“Wait, hold on,” Neil said, holding his hands up like that would help them back up a few steps. “Hold on, back up. A picture frame?” Andrew looked severely unimpressed with his sputtering. 

“You’re getting french fries,” Andrew decided for him. He proceeded to lean out the window and order two large fries and some ice cream, but Neil wasn’t really listening. 

“Andrew,” Neil said.

“Neil,” Andrew replied evenly, stopping at the pickup window to wait for their food. 

“Andrew, why do you have a dent in the side of your face?”

Andrew looked over at him, his gaze dark. 

“I’ll tell you,” he said, “but on credit. A truth for a truth.” 

Neil nodded, something close to dread pooling in his gut.

“Aaron’s mother thought I was Aaron,” Andrew said, detached, like it hadn’t actually happened to him. 

Neil blinked, uncomprehending. “Aaron’s mother?” he asked, but then the window was opening and Andrew was paying for their food, and then they were driving again, and Andrew’s words still didn’t make sense. 

“Not your turn,” Andrew said, like he knew Neil was gearing up to ask more questions, so Neil went quiet. 

They didn't say anything for a while; Andrew turned up the music and handed Neil his french fries, taking a couple of his own and dipping them in his ice cream. 

Neil was appropriately appalled. 

"That," he said, pointing a french fry at the monstrosity, "is revolting." 

Andrew glanced at where he was gesturing, and then pointedly dipped another french fry in, popping it in his mouth with a sideways glance at Neil. 

"Have you ever even tried it?" 

"No." 

"Then shut the hell your mouth." 

Neil squinted at him, eating another french fry. They were very good french fries. "That's not even proper grammar." 

"Do I look like I care?" 

Neil looked at him for a long moment. Andrew glanced at him when he didn't respond. 

"What?" Andrew asked. 

Neil hummed, smirking. "Yeah, you look like you care about grammar." 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

"You look like the kind of person that yells at other people to use the correct form of 'you're'," Neil said, letting a grin take over his face. Andrew was scowling at him. "In verbal conversations." 

"What does that even-" Andrew cut himself off, then scoffed. "Bold of you to assume I have verbal conversations." 

That startled a laugh out of Neil, and he didn't miss the way Andrew glanced at him in response. 

"Wait," Neil gasped. "Oh my god, you're right. We speak hands." 

"Did you just use the correct form of 'you're'?" Andrew asked. 

"Of course I did, who do you think I am?"

"I don't know, Neil," Andrew said, his voice mocking. "Who are you?" 

That shut Neil up. 

God, he didn't fucking know. 

Who was Neil Josten?

He was no one. He was a bunch of lies wrapped up in scarred skin and weary bones. He was tired eyes and paper thin stories that no one could see through because no one even tried. He was nothing at all. 

"Hey," Andrew said, snapping his fingers in Neil's face, making him jump. "Stop it." 

Neil blinked. "Stop what?" he asked. 

"Thinking," Andrew replied, not looking at him. "I can hear it from here." 

"Oh," Neil murmured. "Sorry." 

"Don't," Andrew snapped. Then, softer, "don't." 

Neil looked at him, at his blank eyes, fixed on the road ahead of them, his hand wrapped around the wheel like he could strangle it. 

Something inside Neil twisted at the sight. 

He wanted to take Andrew's face in his hands and hold him until the tension had bled completely away. He wanted to press a kiss to the tiny crease between his eyebrows, to smooth it with his lips. 

The thought stopped him in his tracks, distracting him so much that he didn't even notice Andrew stopping the car and turning it off. 

"Glove compartment," Andrew said. 

Neil blinked at him. "What?" 

Andrew sighed, leaning over the center consul and opening the glove compartment in front of Neil. He pulled what looked like a camera out, before shutting the glove compartment and getting out of the car. 

"Wait," Neil said, climbing out of his side and looking over the hood. "Wait, is that a camera?" 

"No," Andrew replied, deadpan. "It's an elephant." 

"Okay, you're the worst." 

"So I've been told." Andrew fiddled with a bunch of tiny dials and switches. "And it's 'you're'."

"That is literally what I said." 

"Not what I heard."

"I hate you," Neil said, coming around to stand in front of Andrew and completely undermining his statement with a blinding smile. Andrew glared at him. 

Then, in one swift motion, he held the camera up to his eye and snapped a picture before Neil could react. 

He didn't look at it as he lowered the camera, just brushed past Neil, and said, "Sometime today, bunny." 

Neil's brain short circuited for a moment. 

"Did you just call me  _ bunny? _ " he asked, spinning around and hurrying to catch up to Andrew, but then he got a good look at where they were, and his thoughts derailed again. 

The house in front of them looked like something straight out of a Jane Austen novel, but falling apart and definitely haunted. 

Most of the windows were either boarded up, or shuttered, and the ones that weren't were shattered. The paint that must have been a clean, whitewashed ivory at one point, was chipping away, bit by bit, and deep green ivy climbed up the pillars and the walls, as if it could choke the life out of the very frame. The sidewalk and stairs leading up to the porch had long since been lost to the underbrush, and the front door was hanging open, ever so slightly. 

Neil was scared to breathe, for fear of the building collapsing in on itself, like a house of cards. 

Andrew mounted the steps without hesitation. 

“What are you doing?” Neil hissed. 

“Entering, obviously,” Andrew said, without looking back at him. “Seeing as the breaking has already been done for us.” 

“This is definitely haunted,” Neil said, tenitavely climbing the stairs. “You know that right?”

Andrew shot him a look over his shoulder. “Scared?” 

“Of getting caught trespassing?” Neil crossed the threshold, shivers flying up his spine. “No, not particularly. Of ghosts?” He stopped in the entryway, his eyes drawn up and up and up the dizzying line of the grand staircase as it ascended towards a gaping hole in the ceiling. Vibrant moonlight spilled through the opening, illuminating everything in a soft silver glow. “Yes, yes I am. But I would say it’s a healthy fear.” 

Andrew stopped in the middle of the foyer. He looked unreal in the moonlight, like a fever dream. 

“Are they even real though?” he asked.

Neil kept going past him, eyes set on the stairs, on getting as high off the ground as possible. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Are they? Have you met one?”

Andrew looked at him, following his careful progress up the stairs. “No,” he said. 

“Exactly. But just because you’ve never met one, doesn't mean they’re not real.”

Andrew hummed. “‘Just because you can’t see it, or feel it, doesn't mean it’s not there’,” he said, like he was quoting someone. “Something Renee said to me,” he explained, at Neil’s questioning look. 

It did sound like something Renee would say. 

Neil opened his mouth to respond, not paying attention to where he was setting his feet whatsoever, and between one breath and the next his foot was met with empty air, sending him forward and down. He had to break his fall with his hands, cursing as he felt something sharp stab into his palm. 

“Neil,” Andrew said.

“I’m fine,” Neil said, pushing himself back to his feet with a rueful laugh. A quick glance at his hand showed quite a large splinter sticking out of it. He pulled it out without blinking. “There’s no step there.” 

“If you die, I’m leaving you here,” Andrew threatened. Neil just laughed, skipping the missing step and bounding up the rest. 

“Then there really will be a ghost to haunt the house,” he said as he made it to the landing. 

The hole in the ceiling was a lot closer from that vantage point, Neil could see about half the sky through it, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the swollen, blinding moon. It was achingly, wistfully peaceful, something that invoked poetry and thousands of stories, and older than time itself. 

Neil felt abruptly small in comparison. 

The snap of a camera shutter brought his attention back to Andrew on the ground floor, and he walked over to the railing to lean on it. 

“Hi,” Neil said softly, and somehow, his voice carried. The camera snapped again. Neil held up two fingers in front of one eye, pinching them together until Andrew fit between them. “So tiny,” he said, smirking.

Andrew lowered the camera to inflict the full force of his glare on Neil. “I hope you fall.” 

“Hm, I don’t know about that,” Neil said. 

He eyed the banister, gauging its strength. 

“Do you think this will hold me?” he asked, leaning harder against it. It didn’t budge.

“No,” Andrew said. “I don’t think it will.”

“I think it will.”

“No, you should definitely not-” Andrew cut off as Neil hoisted himself onto the banister. It was about four inches thick and flat, perfect for balancing. “Neil,” Andrew said, and Neil looked over at the edge in his voice. 

“What?” he asked, slowly rising up from all fours to stand up straight, his arms extended for balance. “Scared?” 

Andrew didn’t respond. Neil felt as if he could take one measured step to the right, and instead of falling, he would fly. 

“Neil,” Andrew said again, his voice tight. Neil looked at him again. “Get down.”

Neil blinked. Time froze, for a moment. 

“Okay,” he murmured, taking one careful step, then two. He thought he heard Andrwe suck in a breath below him. 

“Neil.” 

“I’m coming,” Neil promised. “I’m coming.” 

He reached the edge of the flat bandister and lowered himself to sit with his legs facing outward, letting a smile take over his face.

_ Watch this, _ he thought, and then proceeded to slide down the entire length of the railing, a laugh escaping him as he gained speed around the curve. He realized too late that he had no way to stop, running full force into the pillar at the very bottom of the railing and knocking the breath clean out of his lungs. 

For a dizzying moment, he started to tip backwards, but then Andrew was there, steadying him with a hand wrapped in the collar of his shirt. Neil gripped the banister on either side of himself to keep from reaching out and holding on to Andrew. 

“Hello,” Neil said, smiling, breathless and giddy and high on adrenaline. Andrew was a lot closer than he thought he was originally; the tips of their noses were almost brushing. 

Neil wanted to kiss him. He wanted Andrew to kiss him. He wanted to share his breath, his laughter, however soft, his sighs and inhales and exhales. He wanted to bury Andrew so deep inside himself that Andrew would either haunt him forever, or sprout and turn Neil’s soul into a field of wildflowers. 

“Junkie,” Andrew murmured, and before Neil could blink, he let go of Neil’s shirt and stepped away, leaving Neil to tumble, sputtering, off the railing in his absence. 

“Rude,” Neil muttered, once he found his balance and was able to follow Andrew deeper into the darkness. He ignored the ache in his chest, like something had been taken from him that he wasn’t even sure he had in the first place.

The moonlight steadily disappeared the farther they went, and at one point, it got so dark that Neil lost sight of Andrew in front of him, causing an unproportional amount of panic to seize him until the flash of Andrew’s camera went off and illuminated what Neil assumed was a great room of sorts.

As soon as the light flickered off again, however, they were plunged back into darkness, and the space felt somehow so much larger and smaller than it actually was, all at the same time.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered to the emptiness, unwilling to move. 

“What?” Andrew’s voice asked from somewhere to his left. 

“Hold my hand?

There was a pause, a contemplation. 

“Come here,” Andrew said at last. Neil found he did not know where Andrew’s voice was coming from at all. 

“No you,” he shot back, trying not to think of all the horrible, dark things that could be sneaking up on him from behind. 

Andrew huffed, and then the camera flash went off again, thoroughly blinding Neil, and as the echo of the light played across his closed eyes, Andrew’s hand slipped into his, a lifeline. 

“Thank you,” Neil whispered, and then Andrew was tugging on his hand, and they were moving again.

Neil lost all sense of direction within a few short seconds, but Andrew seemed to know exactly where he was going, turning corners and weaving through unseen obstacles like he had been there before. 

Maybe he had.

Finally, after what felt like ages, they emerged into a room full of windows, and Neil could see again in the soft moonlight, but Andrew didn’t stop there. He led Neil over to one corner, where he twisted a little hidden knob and pushed, revealing a secret staircase leading up and up and up, presumably a servant’s staircase. 

Andrew looked back at Neil once before mounting stairs, pulling Neil up behind him, until they reached a landing with a long narrow hallway. In the middle of the hallway, a trap door had been pulled down, and a ladder was leading up through it, like it was waiting for them to arrive. 

Now Neil was quite certain that Andrew had been there before. He smiled to himself as Andrew climbed the ladder first, and then he followed. 

His first thought upon arriving on the roof, was it had gotten cold. Really cold. His second was he felt closer to the stars somehow. Closer to the moon. It was intoxicating. 

The click of Andrew’s camera, once again, drew his eyes away from the sky to what was right in front of him. 

Neil smiled as Andrew took another picture, tipping his head to one side.

“I didn’t know you liked photography,” he said. Andrew lowered the camera, looking at him steadily with nothing between them. 

“I like being able to choose,” he said, after a long stretch of silence. “I like being able to control what memories, what moments, to hold onto forever.” 

They just looked at each other for a moment, neither of them willing to break the stillness, and then Andrew exhaled and spun around, moving to the very edge of the roof and sitting down. 

Neil followed, because of course he did. 

“Truth for a truth?” Neil suggested, because he needed to make it even. Because there was so much of Andrew that he did know, that he wanted to know. When Andrew just nodded, but didn’t say anything, Neil said, “It’s your turn.” 

He could practically see Andrew thinking, could see him choosing his words with a thoughtful precision. 

“Who’s car was in your driveway?” Andrew asked finally. “It’s never been there before.” 

Neil thought back to earlier, momentarily confused. They only owned one car, the car that Neil drove, but then he remembered.

“Oh.” Neil winced. It should have been an easy question, an easy answer, but things could never seem to be easy for Neil. “That’s a nurse,” he said, picking at the hem of his sleeves and not looking at Andrew. “My uncle hired one because my mother-” he stopped, looking out over the dark expanse of the yard below them. “My mother is not well.” 

It felt more real, somehow, saying it out loud, to Andrew. Neil shivered. 

Andrew hummed, setting the camera down beside him and taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Your turn,” he said, lighting one up for each of them. 

Neil accepted his and thought about what he wanted to ask. There were a million things he could ask, but also a million things that would lead to Andrew walking away, or shutting down. 

Then he saw Andrew picking at the edge of one armband, and he got it.

“Why the armbands?” he asked, softly, quietly. 

Judging by the new tension in Andrew’s shoulders, it was a much heavier question than Neil had anticipated. He regretted it immediately. 

“You don’t have to tell me-” he started, but Andrew cut him off. 

“Neil,” he said, making Neil look at him. “I will never tell you anything I don’t want to. I will never give you anything I do not want to, and I want you to do the same. You don’t owe me anything. I will not-” he stopped, looking somewhat at war with himself. “I will not be like the world,” he finished quietly. “I will not let you let me be.” 

Neil held his breath, nodding, caught in the intensity in Andrew’s eyes, the rawness of his voice. 

He might just have to fight the next person who said Andrew was soulless. 

“The armbands,” Andrew continued, looking down at them in contemplation, “were a gift from Renee.” He continued to finger along the edge, and the silence stretched between them. 

Then, in one swift movement, he stripped the band off, baring his forearm to the moon.

It took Neil a moment to understand what he was looking at. When he did, his heart lurched, and he looked up to find Andrew already looking at him. 

“Are you still-”

“No,” Andrew interrupted, shaking his head. “None of them are new.” 

Neil took in a shaky breath. 

“Okay,” he said, determined not to be exactly what Andrew feared. Determined to accept what he had just been given and guard it with his life. He met Andrew’s eyes, trying to convey all the words he couldn’t say through that alone. “Good.”

Andrew didn’t say anything.

Neil felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. Nothing and no one else mattered. The apocalypse could have come and gone, and he would not have noticed, cocooned as he was in their silence. 

“Your turn,” Neil whispered. 

Andrew slipped his armband back on before replying, inside out, and Neil caught a glimpse of a little ring of something around the cuff that looked almost like tiny blue flowers. 

“No more questions,” Andrew said, dragging his thumb over the line of blossoms. “Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Neil said. 

_ Not tonight. _

+++

The rest of the month of October passed in a blur of everything Neil thought he could never have. 

_ Not tonight, _ Andrew said, and he meant it. 

Not tonight didn’t mean never.

Neil could not count the number of nights he spent with Andrew driving far too fast down unnamed roads, the music just a little too loud, the windows down even though the air was just a little too cold. 

Andrew took him to all of his favourite places, his abandoned hideaways, his secrets escapes. They went to the old abandoned local pool, where they laid down, opposite to each other with their heads close together in the deep end, staring at the stars for an indeterminable amount of time. There, Neil told Andrew about the brightest, happiest memories he possessed, the days filled with adventure and pride, so much pride, and he pretended the pool was still full of water, muffling his words; it made them easier to say. He told Andrew about the mother he used to have. The one with firm hands and laughter brighter than the sun. The mother that, in his young eyes, went to war everyday, and came back with stories of the thrilling adventures she had as she defended the world from darkness. The mother that he no longer had.

They sat on the swings of the local elementary playground around midnight, searching for the moon on cloudy nights. There, Andrew told Neil about some of his time in foster care, some of the better houses, as they swung gently back and forth, again and again. When the silence settled around them, as it always did, Andrew pulled Neil onto his lap so they were facing each other and kissed him until he forgot how to breathe.

It was in the passenger seat of Andrew’s car that Neil told him about his miserable, asshole excuse for a father. It was in the passenger seat of Andrew’s car that Neil said the words  _ my mother has schizophrenia.  _ It was in the passenger seat of Andrew’s car that Neil relieved those terrifying years on the run, the iron grip of his mother’s hand around his wrist as she whispered to him  _ run, Abram, never look back, never stop moving, never stay in one place for too long, _ convinced that Nathan Wesenski was trying to kill them. Convinced that they were being followed. 

_ They caught us,  _ Neil said to the interior of Andrew’s car, to the windshield.  _ Of course they did. My father wasn’t trying to kill us. Of course he wasn’t, he didn’t care enough to try. All charges of desertion were dropped. Instead she was admitted into a mental hospital for six months before my uncle got her out and found us a house and a nurse and a car and told us to stay, to heal.  _

_ But how could we? How can we? _

Andrew pushed Neil’s head down between his knees that night and told him to  _ stop it _ .

For some reason, it worked. 

It was on the hood of Neil’s car that Andrew told him about Cass. About the golden days he fought to hold onto but lost, despite it all, about the many, many loads of laundry he used to do, mostly for his bedsheets, about the long sleeves he learned to wear. It was on the hood of Neil’s car that Andrew told him about the first time he ever heard Aaron’s voice, over the phone. How he finally, finally found someone again that was taken from him, and how he resolved then and there to claw his way back to the brother he didn’t even know. It was on the hood of Neil’s car that Neil pressed a thumb to the bruise blossoming across Andrew’s cheek from when Tilda mistook him for Aaron, yet again, and said,  _ I’ll kill her. _

_ Not if I kill her first,  _ was Andrew’s reply. 

Neil believed him. 

++++

Most nights were filled with Andrew. 

The nights that weren’t, were filled with the others. Matt and Dan and Allison and Renee. Kevin and Nicky and Aaron and, occasionally, Jean and Jeremy, Laila and Alvarez. 

It was quite a list of people. 

Neil didn’t feel like he deserved them. Any of them. 

Sometimes, he would look at them and feel as if he was behind a wall of glass, able to look through but not reach through, and in that moment, he would be filled with something that felt terribly close to grief, but closer still to awe, and strong enough to knock the breath out of him, to leave him dizzy.

He didn’t dwell on those moments. 

One of those such nights, filled with more than just Andrew, just so happened to be the very last football game of the season. 

Their football team made it all the way through playoffs, only to lose at the very end, and none of the band members were particularly upset about it. 

October nights were miserable, being forced to sit in freezing cold bleachers, sipping shitty hot chocolate and hoping you ended the night with all of your toes. 

Naturally, the band didn’t really care that the players and cheerleaders might be mad about losing, so in a fit of good feelings and all around excitement that the season was finally ending, Allison invited the entire football team, as well as the cheerleaders, to her celebratory end of the season party. 

She didn’t think about the consequences. 

Neil pulled up to her house, and he could hear the music from inside his car. People that he had never met, nor seen, in his life were spilling out of the front doors and into the giant yard. He thought he saw a football go flying across over the hood of his car. Someone was puking in the bushes in front of where he parked.

The thought of actually exiting the safety of his car and crossing the endless stretch of sidewalk to the front door nearly made his soul leave his body.

He had a few choices: give up and drive home, avoiding everything all together, call Andrew and hope he was feeling helpful in that moment, or find some deep, hidden courage, and walk into the house by himself. 

Things were looking grim. 

Neil got out his phone. 

“Are you dying?” Andrew asked, as soon as the call connected. 

“Aren't we all?” Neil responded. “Slowly. Inevitably.”

“I’m immortal,” Andrew said, deadpan. 

Neil smiled, leaning his head back against the seat. “Sounds lonely.” 

Andrew paused. Someone screamed in the background, a delighted, hysterical sound. “It is,” Andrew said. His voice was low and soft and completely at odds with everything about the night. Another pause. “Humanity bores me.”

“Tragic,” Neil said, biting back on a smile much bigger than the words warranted. “I’m outside.”

“Congratulations.” 

“I fear for my life.” 

Andrew hummed. “Boring,” he said. 

“Send someone to save me?” Neil pleaded. 

“What would you give me?” Andrew asked, after yet another pause. 

“What would you take?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

“Fine.” Neil bit his lip again, unsure why he was smiling so much. “Anything.”

There was another pause. Neil thought he could hear Nicky’s voice in the background. 

Finally, Andrew sighed. “Hate you,” he said. “Do try not to die before the cavalry gets there.” 

He hung up before Neil could reply. 

Neil barely managed to get the stupid smile off of his face, when Matt came bursting out of the front doors, his hands thrown up like he just scored a touchdown, his mouth forming Neil’s name, indistinguishable over the music. 

He practically sprinted to Neil’s car, throwing open the door and bodily dragging Neil out before pulling him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Don’t worry buddy,” he said, releasing Neil just enough to spin him around and start pushing him towards the front doors by the shoulders. “I’ll protect you from anything and everything.”

As if to prove his point, he plucked a flying football clean out of the air and hurled it back at the guy who had thrown it in the same motion, throwing up a middle finger in his general direction for added emphasis. The guy just laughed and returned the gesture. 

Inside the house was not much better. 

Upon entering, at least four different people tried to hand him a drink, all of which he refused. It was dark and loud and completely horrible; Matt at his back was perhaps the only thing keeping him from turning around and walking out. 

Matt seemed to know that, his grip tightening as they moved through the crowds until suddenly they were through the sliding glass back doors, the frigid October air greeting them, and Neil could breathe again. 

The first person he saw was Andrew, standing far too close to the pool, his head bent as he listened to whatever Renee was saying to him. Tendrils of steam curled up from the water’s surface, colored an eerie, chlorine blue, causing the light to reflect strangely across his face. 

He looked up as Neil approached, his eyes snapping to Neil’s like they were magnetic, tightening the invisible cord that had taken up permanent residence in Neil’s chest, and dragging him, closer, ever closer. Neil gave him a tiny secret smile, to which he just raised an eyebrow. 

Unfortunately, Matt was still holding onto his shoulders, and there was nothing he could do to keep from being escorted the rest of the way to safety. They walked right past Andrew and Renee to where Allison, Dan, Nicky, and Kevin were standing, a few feet away. Neil pointedly did not look back over his shoulder at Andrew. 

“I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, Kevin,” Allison was saying. “We all know you would abandon us as soon as you got the chance. You would save your trumpet over us.”

“No,” Kevin protested, severely put out. “I would save my trumpet over  _ you, _ Allison. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t at least  _ try  _ to save the others.” 

“Aw, I knew you liked us, deep down,” Matt said, interesting himself cleanly in the conversation. Kevin just looked at him. 

“I wasn’t talking about you,” he said. Allison practically shrieked. 

“Kevin,” Matt said, putting a hand over his heart. “Ouch.” 

“I was talking about Andrew, ” Kevin continued, oblivious as always to how astoundingly rude he was. He would be funny if he wasn’t so innately insulting. “Because obviously he would survive the longest.” Kevin paused. “And Aaron, because Andrew probably wouldn't come with me if we didn’t take him.”

“I heard that,” Aaron said, appearing out of thin air beside Kevin and making him spill his drink all down his front. 

“Fuck,” Keivn said, with feeling. 

“Nice to know I'm just good for Andrew incentive,” Aaron said, but he was just barely smiling. 

“Fuck you,” Kevin said, trying and failing to rid his shirt of whatever alchoholic beverage he had had in his cup. 

“No,” Allison said, laughing mercilessly. “He has a point.”

Kevin pointed at her. “Fuck you too.” 

She just cackled.

“Just for that comment,” Aaron said, “If the zombie apocalypse happens, Kevin, I’m leaving you behind.” 

“I think you mean  _ when  _ the zombie apocalypse happens,” Matt interrupted. 

“I most certainly do not,” Aaron replied. 

“Neil,” Dan said suddenly, turning everyone’s attention to him. “Zombie apocalypse. What would you do. Go.”

For a second, he just looked at her, unsure he heard correctly and slightly panicking at being put on the spot like that. 

“Um,” he said, eloquently. He could remember overhearing Andrew and Renee having a very similar conversation a long time ago, at the beginning of the season. “Die?” he said, and everyone laughed. 

“It’s okay,” Matt said, reaching out to pat his head. “Dan and I would protect you.” 

Neil laughed with them because it felt like what he was supposed to do. Then he really thought about it, and all dregs of his laughter died. 

He definitely wouldn’t have their protection, mostly because as soon as the world went to shit, he would disappear, run. 

Neil Josten was a runaway, trapped and caged. And as soon as the door to the cage opened, whether it was broken or unlocked, he would be gone, for wild things were never meant to be confined.

Abram Hatford was barely real, and the son of a deserter. He was born of fear, but fear can only keep you alive if you are alone. 

Nathaniel Wesenski was dead and buried; he didn’t care enough to save anyone around him. 

Whoever he was, he was made to disappear, to leave people behind. It was his history and his legacy, as inescapable as the dawn and twice as cruel, a thousand times as lonely. 

He was the space between the stars, the shadow of the moon, and the worst part was, it was his fault.

It was all his fault. 

But the thing was. The thing. Was.

He didn’t want to be that anymore. 

He didn’t want to keep leaving everyone behind. 

Neil nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped him on the shoulder, turning to find Renee behind him; she pointed quietly over her shoulder at Andrew. The conversation had moved on, so no one noticed her taking his spot as he left the circle.

“Neil,” Andrew said, once Neil had stopped in front of him.

“Hm?” Neil asked, looking up from the mesmerizing surface of the water. “What?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Thinking.” Andrew’s breath condensed in a little cloud as he said it. It really was freezing out there. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

Neil laughed, sounding small even to himself, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep them warm. 

“I try not to,” he said. 

“Try harder,” Andrew shot back, unsympathetic. 

Neil laughed again, quietly, looking down. 

“They’re talking about the zombie apocalypse,” Neil said to the concrete at his feet. 

“I really don’t care,” Andrew said. 

“I don’t think I would try to save anyone.” It felt like a confession, saying it out loud. Speaking it into existence made it real. 

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Andrew scoffed. “You’re a rabbit.”

Neil looked up, searching Andrew’s eyes. 

“Would you?” he asked. Andrew tilted his head in consideration. 

“I can count the number of people I would take with me on one hand,” he said, after a moment. 

Neil smiled, looking down again, only to look back up at Andrew. 

“I want to be that type of person,” he said, hoping Andrew would understand, needing him to understand. He was so tired of running. “I want to come back,” he whispered. “I want to come back for you.” 

Andrew went very still. 

“You’re not leaving,” he said, but it was the most unsure Neil had ever heard him.

Neil shook his head, his chest tight with something terribly close to panic. “No,” he said quickly. “No, I’m not leaving.” Andrew took a step closer, and Neil had to bury his hands deeper in his pockets to keep from reaching out. “I don’t want to leave.” 

“You’re not leaving,” Andrew said again.

“I’m not,” Neil agreed. 

“Then you won’t have to come back,” Andrew said, like it was the most simple thing in the world. “Because you will already be here.”

Neil smiled. “Oh,” he said, on an exhale, his breath clouding between them. Andrew glared at him. “Well if you put it like that.”

“I will push you in,” Andrew threatened. Neil laughed again. 

“Do it,” he said. “I’ll drag you with me.” 

Andrew glared at him. “I hate you.”

“And I would save you first in the event of a zombie apocalypse,” Neil shot back, smiling, taking his hands out of his pockets to flip Andrew off. “Fight me.” 

Andrew pushed him in the pool. 

Neil barely had time to suck in a breath, let alone grab Andrew and pull him in, it happened so fast. 

He hit the water and sank like a stone, his clothes weighing him down like an anchor. It was blessedly quiet under the water, but he could barely hear people shouting above him, shocked. 

The water was warm, thank god; Neil let himself drift for a moment before using the bottom to shoot up to the surface. 

“Shit,” he said, as soon as he got most of the water out of his eyes. The air was freezing. “I missed!” That was aimed at Andrew standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at him with carefully concealed amusement. He said it in Korean, effectively cutting all witnesses out of the conversation, except Renee, of course. “You were supposed to come with me.”

“Better luck next time,” Andrew said, also in Korean, tapping two fingers to his temple in Neil’s mocking salut.

“Fuck you,” said Neil, but he was smiling. 

“Oh my god!” Allison said, “Neil, what the fuck?” She turned on Andrew, correctly assuming the cause of Neil’s unplanned swim. “Andrew, what the fuck?”

Andrew didn’t dignify her with a response. 

“Fucking hell, Minyard,” Allison snapped, high on richeous fury. “Dan, go run and get Neil some clothes, you know where they are.”

“Neil,” Matt said frantically, coming up next to Allison, Renee not far behind him. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Neil said, smiling and floating on his back. It really was quite nice in the heated pool, much warmer than outside at least.

“Matt, go grab some towels,” Allison commanded. “Renee.” She looked around until she saw Renee standing by Andrew again. “Keep him away from Neil. They obviously can’t be trusted around each other.” Renee just smiled at her. Allison obviously took it as agreement because she turned back to Neil, seething. 

“Neil Josten, I swear to god, one of these days you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“He started it,” Neil said indignantly, a blatant lie. Andrew turned on his heel and walked away, Renee falling into step behind him. 

“And I am going to be the one to kill you,” Allison interrupted. 

“Mean,” Neil said, just as Matt came running back with his arms full of towels. 

“There were so many,” he said, out of breath. “So I grabbed all of them.”

“Good job, Matt,” Allison said, taking a few from him. “Now get out, Neil, you’re going to get hypothermia and die.” 

Neil did as he was told, getting out of the water and immediately starting to shiver. He was escorted into the house with much fanfare, and into a bathroom where Dan was waiting to hand him some dry clothing. They were much nicer than anything he owned. He thought the sweater might be gucci. 

As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, a hot mug was shoved into his hands. 

“It’s tea,” Dan said reasurrlying, at his startled look. 

“Drink it,” Allison demanded. Neil did. It was okay. 

“Um,” Jeremy said, stopping in his tracks with Jean at his side. “Why is Josten wet?”

Neil blinked. He didn’t think Jeremy knew his name. 

“Because Andrew Minyard is a bitch,” Allison said. Neil frowned at her, but of course she didn’t notice. “If you start sneezing,” she said, turning on Neil and shoving a finger in his face. “I might have to kill him and then you.”

Neil took a tentative sip of his tea. 

Jean laughed. “Yeah,” he said, grabbing Jeremy’s hand to start pulling him away. “Good luck with that.” 

“I have money,” Allison insisted. “I’ll pay the mafia to do it or something.” 

“Great idea, Allison,” Matt said. 

“Thank you.”

“I was joking.”

“I wasn’t.” 

Neil raised his hand to say something but Allison turned on him again.

“You forfeit the right to have an opinion tonight,” she said. Neil lowered his hand. “Oh my god, I can’t even look at you right now,” she said, spinning away from him. “Why does your face have to look like that? Why so beautiful? Matt,” she said, reaching out and latching onto his sleeve, making him jump. “Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t get within fifty feet of Minyard for the rest of the night, I don’t feel like having a house fire.” 

“Okay,” Matt agreed, nodding vigorously, fear in his eyes. Allison let go of him. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she said, and disappeared. 

For a second, Matt, Dan, and Neil just stood there in silence, then Neil took another sip of his tea, and Dan lost it. Then they were all laughing, Matt reaching out to ruffle his wet hair, and Neil felt warm all over, bright and filled to the brim. 

“I will never understand you,” Matt said, “You are actually fearless.”

Neil said nothing, smirking and draining the last bit of his tea. 

“Seriously,” Dan said, threading an arm through his and leading him to the kitchen to drop off his mug. “Why must you provoke Andrew Minyard, of all people? Do you have a death wish?” 

“No,” Neil said, setting his mug in the sink. “And I'll never tell.”

“Oh my god,” Dan said, but Neil stopped paying attention, because across the room he could see Andrew on the stairs, looking straight at him. Thank god for open floor plans. 

As soon as their eyes connected Andrew turned and made his way up the rest of the stairs, not looking back once. Neil fought back a smile. 

“Hey,” he said, untangling himself from Dan’s arm and patting his pockets. “I think I left my phone with my clothes. What time is it?” 

Dan pulled out her own phone. “Twelve fifty,” she said. 

“Thanks,” Neil said, already inching away. “I actually think I need to be home right now, my mom might kill me if I’m out past one.” He flashed them a smile. “Don’t wait for me.” 

Neil turned around to the chorus of Dan and Matt’s slightly confused goodbyes, slipping through the crowd like he had done so many times before and making it to the other side of the room before Matt could even think about offering to escort him to his car, climbing the stairs undetected. 

He went, without thinking, to the door of the room Andrew had taken him to after the very first football game, all those weeks ago. It opened right as he was raising a hand to knock, revealing Andrew on the other side. 

For a second, they just stared at each other.

Then Neil smiled and said, “Hi.” 

There was another beat in which they just looked at each other, waiting, and then Andrew grabbed his raised hand, using it to haul him into the room, shutting the door behind them, and crowding Neil up against it. He thought he heard the lock click shut. 

“You pushed me in the pool,” Neil said, still smiling, his nose inches away from Andrew, sharing his breath. 

“You literally told me to,” Andrew said. 

“Allison is very angry with you.”

“I literally don't care.” Andrew pinned Neil’s wrist against the door, above their heads, leaning ever closer. “Yes or no, Neil?”

“It’s always yes with you,” Neil said, to the space between them. 

Andrew finally closed the gap, tilting his head to slot his lips against Neil’s, kissing him like it was the last thing he would ever do, stealing the oxygen from Neil’s lungs and replacing it with something bright and heavy and addictive. 

Too soon, he was pulling away, resisting Neil’s attempts at following his mouth until he opened his eyes. 

“Don’t ‘always’ me,” Andrew said, his voice rough. 

Neil smiled, dipping to press a kiss to the spot where Andrew’s neck met his jaw. He didn’t miss the way Andrew’s grip tightened on his wrist, so he continued, brushing his nose down Andrew’s neck until he got to the hollow of his throat and could press another kiss there. Andrew inhaled sharply, so he did it again, and again. 

“Don’t ask for the truth if you're just going to dismiss it,” Neil said, smiling against Andrew’s skin. 

Andrew pushed his free hand into Neil’s hair and forced his mouth back up to where he could reach in retaliation, swallowing Neil’s laughter and releasing his wrist to start walking backwards, slowly, towards the bed. At the very last second, he spun them around so the back of Neil’s legs hit the edge of bed and gave out, sending him sprawling on top of the covers. 

He let Andrew follow, stretching up on his elbows to meet him in the middle. He let Andrew tell him where to put his hands, just his shoulders and his hair, no farther. He let Andrew get his borrowed gucci sweater out of the way, let Andrew run his hands up his ruined skin, shivering at the contact. 

He let the rest of the world fall away as Andrew pressed him into the mattress and took him apart with his mouth, his hands. 

He let himself keep that little, terrifying word at arms length, let it hover at the corner of his mind, let it fill him to his trembling core and stain all that he was with a terrible, fathomless hope. 

_ Always.  _

+++

The next morning, Neil woke up in his own bed with no recollection of how he got there. 

It took to the count of six for the memories to flood back, stilted and drenched in a giddy type of joy that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. It left his breathless for a moment, staring up at the cracked white plaster of the ceiling above his bed. 

After what had felt like a lifetime the night before, Neil and Andrew had collected themselves and snuck out of Allison’s house together. The party was still in full swing, and they narrowly avoided running into almost all of their friends, resorting to ducking behind strangers and sprinting between shadows to reach their cars. They argued for at least five minutes about who was driving who and dropping who off, an argument that involved a lot of sneaked kisses, before deciding to just go separately. 

Andrew stayed right on Neil’s tail until they reached the first red light, the intersection completely empty at that hour of the night, where he pulled up next to Neil and revved his engine, rolling down his window with a challenge in his eyes. 

Neil stuck his tongue out at him, and then the light turned green and they both floored it, tires screaming in the otherwise silent night. 

Andrew pulled ahead of him easily, his shitty car less shitty than Neil’s, but Neil didn’t care, he just laughed and let the wind snatch it away, flipping Andrew off as they went their separate ways.

He went to bed that night, and for the first time in a very, very long time, he dreamed about nothing at all. 

Once he was fully awake, it took him another full five minutes to actually drag himself out of bed, squinting as he threw his curtains open to let the weak, mid morning light filter in. It was foggy outside, like the clouds had sunk to earth and wrapped it in a blanket of hazy, milky grey. 

Neil walked into the kitchen yawning, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes in a feeble attempt to fend off a simmering headache, and opened his eyes, only to freeze in the doorway. 

“Abram,” Uncle Stuart said pleasantly, stirring a mug of what Neil assumed was earl grey tea with a small spoon. “Good morning.”

“Uncle Stuart,” Neil replied, unsure. “What are you doing here?” He thought he was supposed to be on a business trip to New York. 

Stuart hummed, tapping his spoon on the rim of his mug twice before setting it aside on the counter. “I had to leave New York early,” he said, after he took a sip of his tea. “A few things came up, but that’s not really the point.”

Neil waited as he took another sip of his tea, something close to dread curling in his gut. 

“The point is, I’ve been offered a new position.” Stuart paused, looking right at Neil. “In London.” 

The dread solidified, crumpling in on itself. Neil glanced at the couch in the living room where his mother would usually be sitting at that time of the morning. 

“Where is my mother?” he asked. Stuart set down his mug. 

“There are very, very good doctors in London, Abram,” he said. Neil looked at him, his lungs constricting. 

“Where is my mother?” he asked again. 

The look Stuart gave him was as close to pity as he would probably ever get. 

“She left this morning, I sent her with that nurse. What was her name?” Stuart picked up his mug again. “No matter.” He took another sip. Neil could not breathe. “Mary is on a plane to London as we speak. I got her tickets as soon as possible, to give her more time to adjust.” 

Neil could not breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Black spots swarmed at the edge of his vision. 

Abram sucked in a shallow breath and focused on Stuart, reaching out to steady himself on the doorway. 

“Why?” he whispered. Stuart didn’t look up from his mug. 

“It’s for the best, Abram.”

“How could you?” Abram asked, louder. Stuart looked at him then, having the audacity to look surprised. 

“I’m doing this for you,” he said, infuriatingly calm. “For my sister.”

“You didn’t even  _ ask, _ ” Abram said. He felt as if he were caving in on himself with agonizing slowness. “We don’t- we can’t-” he stopped, restarted. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe we have had enough of just picking up and leaving?” 

Stuart’s expression turned hard, severe. 

“It’s done, Abram,” he said. “There’s no time for regret. This was always meant to be temporary.” 

Abram felt like the air had turned to water, and no one had ever bothered to teach him how to swim. 

“This is not temporary to me,” he said, hating how strangled he sounded. 

Stuart pushed off the counter, taking his tea starting out of the kitchen.

“Pack your things, Abram,” he said as he passed. “We leave this evening.” 

Abram slumped against the wall in his absence, sliding all the way down to the floor. 

The whole world was made of water, and he was slowly drowning, powerless to anything but sink. 


	7. drowning  /droun/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance, that's all I have to say. 
> 
> TW: Tilda Minyard existing, implied/threatened abuse, mild panic attack, implied car accident

Andrew 

Andrew cradled his cup of hot chocolate in both hands, leaning against the counter and staring off into the middle distance. 

It was quiet. So very quiet.

Outside, the wind was absent, and the world was covered in a heavy blanket of fog that refused to lift; it seemed to press up against the kitchen window behind him and whisper  _ be silent. Be still. _

_ Hold your breath. _

Andrew did.

In for four, hold for four, out for four. 

It didn’t help. 

The night before had left him filled with something terribly close to hope, and it had soured with the dawn of the new day. This was a pattern that he knew well, one which he was intimately familiar with: he would hold out his hands, under a sparkling, crystal clear fountain, and he would be given so much that his hands would overflow, forever losing what he wanted most. 

It was happening again, he could feel it. His world was made of water, and like the tides, it was slipping away, retreating, called out of his reach by the moon. 

He couldn’t breathe.

Earlier that morning, in the dark hours before the sun showed up when he woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, he had downloaded all the pictures from his camera to his crappy laptop so he could see them better. The one’s he had taken of Neil. 

Most of them were terrible; he had a night lens for his camera, but sometimes even that wasn’t enough. They were blurry and unfocused, but there was a certain longing to them. Andrew looked through them, one by one, and his chest ached. 

His favorite photo was the one of Neil, at the very top of the stairs, his head tipped back into the moonlight. He looked like a shadow, a wraith, but somehow so terribly real, at the very same time. 

He stared at it for a good fifteen minutes, reliving the fear of Neil falling, like it was happening all over again. 

As he looked through photo after photo a cruel voice in the back of his head whispered  _ this.  _

_ This is what you are losing.  _

_ And there is nothing you can do about it. _

“Andrew?” Aaron’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and Andrew looked up to find Aaron leaning out of the doorway with one hand, his viola case clutched in the other. 

“Can I take the car?” Aaron asked, almost tentatively. “I need to pick up Kevin and we should have left like.” He checked his phone. “Seven minutes ago.”

Andrew took a breath in through his nose. “Kevin has a car,” he heard himself say. 

Aaron rolled his eyes, glaring at Andrew. “It’s in the shop, something about the brakes. Come on, Andrew, pl-” he cut himself off. “Just this once.” 

Andrew drew in another breath. It got lost somewhere before his lungs. 

“Fine,” he said, looking away. He didn’t actually care what Aaron did today. He didn’t really care about anything at all. Everything was so, so quiet. He thought, perhaps, he could learn to like it that way. 

Aaron might have thanked him, he had stopped listening, only really hearing the front door close. 

The fog pressed against the glass, instistant. It seemed like the sun had forgotten to show it’s face that day. 

He couldn’t tell how much time passed. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. It was long enough to suck the warmth out of his hot chocolate. He set it to the side. 

Just as the mug touched the counter, his phone started to ring in his pocket. It sounded distant, dull. 

He answered it anyway. 

“Andrew,” Neil’s voice said tinnily, over the speaker. He sounded wrong. Everything sounded wrong. As if he were at the very bottom of the ocean. 

“Andrew?” Neil said again. Andrew let go of his mug.

“Neil,” he said. He didn’t recognize his own voice.

“Andrew,” Neil said for the third time, his voice sharpening. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  _ Everything. _

“Don’t lie to me, Andrew.”  _ Everything, everything, everything.  _ The world was made of water. “Not today.”

The world was made of water, and he didn’t know how to swim. “Tomorrow then.”

“Andrew,” Neil said. He sounded almost like he was close to tears. Which couldn’t be right. Neil didn’t cry. “Don’t.” 

“Don’t what, Neil?”

“Why do you sound like that?” Neil asked, his voice terribly tight. Andrew felt so empty that if his heart could beat any louder, it would echo. “You’re scaring me.” 

“What do you want, Neil?” The kitchen light flickered, once, twice.

“God, Andrew, why-” Neil cut himself off, his breath stumbling and shuddering in something dangerously close to a sob. “I kinda need you right now.”

Andrew didn’t say anything. Those words didn’t make sense. In his mind’s eye, he saw flashes of the photos now on his laptop.    
  


Neil on the rotting stairs, looking up, up, up. Neil balancing on the railing, looking like he was about to grow wings and fly away. 

Neil by Andrew’s car. Neil on the roof of the abandoned house. Neil’s eyes. Neil’s hands. His hair and his freckles and his smile.

“I’m leaving,” Neil over the phone said, sounding wholly and utterly broken. 

Andrew didn’t say anything. 

The tide retreated. The fountain slipped through his fingers.

“Can you even hear me?” He could. “Did you hear what I just said?” He didn't, not really. Didn’t want to. 

Neither of them were breathing. Both of them were drowning. 

“London, Andrew,” Neil choked out. “I’m going to London. Today.” The words ripped out of Neil’s chest and into Andrew’s, dissolving before they could do any harm.

Somewhere, deep inside, a part of Andrew was screaming. He shoved that part away. 

“I don’t want to,” Neil said. “God, I don’t want to.”

Andrew didn’t reply, didn’t do anything at all. He was nothing, and nothing was nothing new. 

“Andrew,” Neil whispered. “Say something, please.” 

Andrew hung up on him. 

The world was water, cloaked in a hovering, haunting fog, and it was so, so quiet.

+++

The next thing Andrew knew for sure, the front door was slamming open; he felt it in his bones. 

A gust of wind made it all the way to the kitchen, dragging with it Tilda Minyard. At the sight of her, something sparked inside him, teasing the terrible, poisonous emptiness he had found himself in. She looked insane, her hair raked by the wind and a furious light in her eyes. Andrew wanted to claw them out. 

“Aaron,” she snapped. “Get in the car.” 

Something sparked again. Andrew pushed off the counter and followed her.

When she reached out to grab his arm, he let her, revulsion climbing up his throat as she shoved him into the passenger seat of her car. 

“They’re not happy with me, Aaron,” Tilda said, tearing out of the drive and onto the road without bothering to check if cars were coming or not. The fog seemed even thicker outside of the house. “You’re going to tell them what you did, and make it up to them.”

Andrew didn’t answer. He had no idea what she was talking about. 

“You’re not a child,” Tilda continued. “If you’re old enough to steal my drugs, you’re old enough to pay for them.”

Andrew froze. 

“What?” he said. Tilda sped right through a light that had just turned red. Someone honked at them. 

“You heard me.” Red crept at the edge of Andrew’s vision. “You owe me now, and you’re going to fucking explain that to my people, or so help me I will make sure you never get into that pathetic college you want so badly. I will send you both back to foster care. I will make you dropout of highschool and lock you in the house, I don’t care. I will beat you within in an inch of your life if I have to, so you better be ready to tell the fucking truth.”

Another spark flew, and that time, Andrew ignited. 

“Don’t touch him,” Andrew snarled, his apathy going up in flames and molten rage replacing it, filling his lungs. “Don’t you dare fucking touch him.”

Tilda looked at him, startled, and did a double take. 

"Shit," she said. Andrew felt, absurdly, like laughing. 

"Not who you thought?" Andrew asked. "Fuck you."

“Shit,” Tilda said again. “Why- where’s Aaron?” 

“Fuck you.”

“You keep fucking doing this to me.” She twisted the wheel to the side, screaming around a corner without slowing down at all. Andrew threw out a hand to steady himself. “I didn’t ask for you back. I didn’t ask for either of you. I didn’t ask for any of it-”

“You don’t  _ have  _ either of us,” Andrew interrupted her, close to shouting. “When you gave up one of us, you gave up both of us. You lost the right to call us yours the day you shoved us into foster care. I don’t care if you didn’t ask for any of this, neither did we, but you gave us fucking all of it.” Andrew couldn’t remember the last time he raised his voice that much. In the system, you learned to be silent, to take up the least amount of space, or be punished for breathing in the wrong direction. He didn’t care anymore. “You gave us all of it.”

He hated how much he sounded like he cared. He hated the emotion in his voice. 

He didn’t care. Not really. 

She had never been his mother. She had never been something that he could lose, because she had never been his in the first place. 

But Aaron. 

Oh god, Aaron. 

“You don’t know anything,” Tilda spat. “You don’t know a fucking thing.” 

“Let me out,” Andrew said.

“What?”

“Stop the fucking car, I said let me out.”

Tilda slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward, cursing for all she was worth.

Neither of them saw the stop sign. 

Neither of them saw the truck barreling down on them through the fog.

Neither of them had time to take in another breath. To blink. To scream.

Andrew’s world went dark with the force of a thousand exploding stars, and the last thing he thought of was a ring of tiny, vibrant blue cornflowers, wrapped around his wrist. 


	8. pipe dream  /ˈpīp ˌdrēm/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More pain!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Hello. I will be posting chapter 8 and 9 today bc they are both short. One is significantly shorter than the other. Also, my beta has informed me that if she were reading this chapter by chapter like you lovelies are, she would hate me. So that's fun. I told her that was good. 
> 
> Anyways, have fun, dont die. We are so very close to the end, but not there yet, I promise. 
> 
> As always, I'm curious about what you thought, and I love responding to your comments! 
> 
> TW: character death, hospitals, descriptions of injuries but very very vague descriptions

Neil

Neil hated airports. 

They were nerve wracking and loud, and horrible. The only good thing about them was how easily he could disappear in the crowds, but that was also the worst thing about them. How easily he could disappear.

Stuart led them through security and past, towards their gate, at a grueling pace. They were over two hours early for their flight, yet he walked like someone had set a fire under his ass. 

Neil wanted to scream. 

Abram was already screaming, pounding against the confines of his mind, ripping himself to pieces as he sat next to Staurt at their gate to wait for first class to be called. 

Andrew’s voice echoed in his head, the emptiness of it, the cold dead acceptance of it. It was like he had already known Neil was going to leave, and had pulled back, caved in, gone blank. 

Neil kept hearing the deafening, damning silence as the call disconnected. 

He kept feeling like a hand was wrapping around his throat, choking him to death. 

Stuart pulled a beat up paperback out of his bag, slipping on some reading glasses and resting the book one knee. 

Neil wanted to scream. 

He wanted to run. 

He could just run. He knew how. 

Neil dug his phone and charger out of his duffle, standing up in one smooth motion. 

“Outlet,” he said, at Staurt’s questioning look. He didn’t wait for Staurt’s consent. 

It didn’t take long to find an empty charging station, there was almost no one there yet, but it was around a corner, out of Stuart’s line of sight. It almost made him feel better. Almost.

He shoved the charger in the socket and plugged his phone in. It was almost dead, not that he really cared. 

He was just setting it down when it started ringing, startling him so much that he dropped it, only to snatch it right back up again. 

When he flipped it open, Andrew’s name flashed on the screen, and he stopped breathing. 

With his heart in his throat, he answered it, feeling far too dizzy and far too hot, but it wasn’t Andrew that answered the phone. It was Renee. 

“Neil,” she said, and something in her voice made him go suddenly, terribly cold. 

He had never heard her sound like that, her voice constricted and shaky.

Neil realized with a jolt, dread filling his lungs, that she sounded scared. 

“It’s Andrew.”

  
  


+++

  
  


Slipping away was easier than Neil anticipated. All it took was an excuse to go to the bathroom, and he was gone, slipping back out through security and beyond. 

He asked some kind lady to use her phone to call a taxi. He'd left his by the outlet.

It usually took about thirty minutes to get to the airport from Neil's house. To get from the airport to the hospital, was closer to forty five, and the fog wasn't helping anything. 

Neil almost wanted to get out of the taxi and run to the hospital, it might have been faster. 

By the time they pulled up to the front doors of the Columbia City Hospital, Neil was practically vibrating apart. He tossed some cash at the driver without counting it and threw himself out of the car, bouncing in place, waiting for the automatic door to open for him, every nerve in his body on fire. 

He hated hospitals even more than he hated airports. 

"Neil!" someone called, and then he was turning to find Renee on the other side of the room, walking towards him. 

"Where is he?" Neil asked, as soon as she got close enough to hear him. 

"He's in surgery, has been for at least two hours-" 

"What happened?" Neil interrupted, his heart in the throat, strangling him. 

"There was an accident, Tilda-" 

"What did she do? What was he doing? Why-" 

"Neil," Renee said firmly. "Sit down, please. I need you to listen to me. Breathe." 

Neil did as he was told. He inhaled and felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. 

"As far as we know," Renee continued, "Tilda and Andrew were in the car when they ran through a stop sign and a truck hit them. It collided with Andrew's side and sent them into a tree on Tilda's. Neil. Breathe. Andrew's in surgery right now, we don't know how bad it is." She paused. "Tilda didn't make it." 

Neil stared at her. None of those words made any sense.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" 

Neil didn't take his eyes off of Renee, knowing he would fall apart if he did, but he recognized Aaron's voice. 

“Any news?” Renee asked, instead of answering. 

“Yeah,” Aaron said. Neil could feel Aaron’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he still didn’t turn to look. “He’s out of surgery and probably won't wake up for another hour or so, maybe more.” Aaron paused. Neil glanced at him. “Seriously, what the fuck is he doing here?” Aaron asked. 

Neil wanted to scream. 

_ What am I doing here?  _

_ What am I doing here what am I doing here what am I doing here what am I doing- _

Neil blinked and saw an army medical tent, and he was nine again, watching curiously as a nurse stitched closed a gash in his mother's arm.

He blinked again and saw white hospital sheets, wrinkled where he had been clenching them between his hands, and suddenly he was twelve, and his mother was dragging him out of the hospital bed despite the road rash all the way up his side from where he had jumped out of a moving car.

He blinked again and he was right there, in the present, the smell of antiseptic clawing its way down his throat, and all he wanted to do was run, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not that time.

“I called him,” Renee said, dragging Neil back to the conversation. “With Andrew’s phone.” She held it out for Aaron to take, and he just stared at it for a moment. 

Finally, Aaron accepted the phone, fixing his stare on Neil. 

“What are you to him?” he asked, his voice almost accusatory, dripping with disdain.

It hurt more than Neil wanted it to. 

“Nothing,” he said, the truth making his voice small. Aaron stared at him.

Neil met his eyes with all the defiance he could muster. 

_ Ask, _ he thought.  _ I dare you.  _

_ Ask me what he is to me.  _

He could see the question, lurking just behind Aaron’s eyes. The curiosity. The suspicion. 

If he asked, Neil wouldn’t lie. He didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to.

_ Everything, _ screamed his bones, his breath, his soul. 

Andrew was everything. 

“If he doesn’t want you here,” Aaron said eventually. “You’re leaving.” 

Neil just looked at him, unwilling and unable to give anything else. 

Aaron nodded, after a moment, like Neil had agreed with him, then someone said his name, it might have been Kevin, and he walked away. Neil barely noticed. 

Renee said something about making another call, so Neil nodded numbly, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his head in his hands. 

All there was left to do was wait.

Wait and agonize. 

Neil honestly did not know how much time passed. 

It felt like years, like moments, like nothing at all.

At one point, Nicky showed up, but he was so worried and full of questions for Renee and Aaron that he didn’t even notice Neil by the wall. Not that Neil minded. 

Finally, after Neil had almost trembled himself into complete stillness, a nurse appeared and asked for immediate family members. Every single one of them froze, until Aaron snapped out of it and stepped forward and followed the nurse through the double doors at the end of the room. 

“Fuck,” Nicky whispered, after silence reigned for five seconds, six.

Neil felt sick. 

Somehow, waiting that time was harder. Somehow, the lights overhead felt brighter, piercing into his skull and wreaking steady havoc. Somehow, time tripped over itself and restarted and restarted and restarted, until he was so dizzy he couldn’t think, couldn’t blink, couldn’t inhale at all. 

That time, when Aaron came back, Neil didn’t look up, he kept his head in his hands. 

“Is he awake?” he heard Nicky ask.

“Yeah,” Aaron said, then he hesitated. “He asked-” he trailed off. 

“What?” Nicky prompted gently. 

Aaron hesitated again. “He asked for Neil.” 

Neil’s world shuddered to a stop. He looked up to find everyone looking back at him. Nicky’s mouth was hanging open, like had just noticed Neil for the first time. Renee gave him a tiny smile. 

He didn’t know how he managed to scrape himself off that revolting waiting room chair, but he did, finding some hidden strength to follow Aaron deeper into the labyrinth of the hospital and up to the third floor, to Andrew’s room. To Andrew.

Right in front of the door, Aaron stopped, one hand on the doornob. He looked like he wanted to say something, so Neil waited. Eventually, though, he just shook his head and pulled the door open, and then Neil couldn’t see anything past the hospital bed in the middle of the room. 

Andrew lay on the bed with his head tipped towards the door, his eyes closed. Flowering bruises climbed up the side of his neck to his temple, angry and vibrant. That was the only thing immediately visible, but Neil had heard the others talking.

Broken ribs, bruised lungs, dislocated shoulder, concussion. 

He looked so much smaller under the dimmed lights, swallowed by whitewashed walls and bleached sheets. 

For a heartbeat, Neil couldn’t walk into the room, couldn't move past bringing a hand up to press against his mouth. He felt like if he breathed at all, something would shatter.

Then Andrew’s eyes drifted open, locking on Neil’s, and everything seemed to be kickstarted into motion again. Neil was drawn towards him like he had no control over his own body, like they were bound by string that coiled them tighter and tighter around each other, within each other. The door drifted shut behind him with a decisive click. 

“Pipe fucking dream,” Andrew murmured, before Neil could say anything, his voice hazy and muffeled. 

Neil felt, absurdly, like laughing and crying at the same time. He was shaking so much. 

“I’m here,” he said, stopping at the edge of the bed and sinking into the chair that sat there. “I’m real.”

“Are you sure?” Andrew whispered, accused, his eyes drifted closed and open again. 

“I want to be,” Neil said, aching to reach out but terrified too. “Oh god, I want to be.” 

“You are supposed to be in London.” Not a question. Another accusation. Neil’s heart clenched painfully. 

“Renee called me,” he said softly, attempting to smile and coming up short. “I ditched my uncle at the airport.” 

Andrew drew in a breath, releasing it slowly, his eyes drifting closed.

“Bunny,” he whispered. 

Neil stopped breathing. 

Andrew’s breath was slowing down, the meds dragging him back under, and Neil panicked for a moment.

“Andrew,” he said quietly, before he could lose his courage. “Can I hold your hand?”

Andrew didn’t reply at first, blinking open his eyes once, but then he moved his hand closest to Neil, stretching out his pinky.

Neil gently, oh so gently, hooked their little fingers together, and for the first time that day, he could breathe properly. 

+++

“Neil?”

Neil started at the sound of his name, lifting his head up from where it was resting on his arm crossed on the side of the hospital bed and looking behind him to find Renee in the doorway. He looked back at the bed and found his pinky still intertwined with Andrew’s.

“Someone called me using your phone,” Renee said, apologetically. “He said he was your uncle.” 

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Neil said, already turning back to Andrew. 

“I told him that,” Renee said. “But he’s here now. He must have tracked my phone.”

Neil cursed quietly, digging the heel of his free hand into his right eye. He didn’t want to let go. 

_ I’m coming back, _ he thought, even though no one could hear him.  _ I’m coming back to you.  _

Slowly, he untangled their fingers. Andrew shifted ever so slightly, but didn’t wake up. Neil almost wished he did, so he could tell Neil to stay. 

The hallway lights were much brighter than the room, and Neil was momentarily blinded as he followed Renee back to the waiting room. 

Nicky was still there, passed out on one of the couches. Kevin must have left, unless he was somewhere with Aaron. 

Stuart was by the desk, furious. 

“Where have you been?” he hissed. 

Neil looked around at the hospital waiting room, his eyes snagging on the clock above the desk. It had been about three hours since he had gotten there. He looked back at Stuart. “Where do you think?” Neil asked. 

“What were you thinking?” Stuart continued, ignoring him. “You made us miss our flight, and I’ve spent  _ hours  _ looking for you-”

“I’m not going with you,” Neil said, cutting him off. 

Staurt stared at him. “What?”

“I said,” Neil hissed. “I’m not going with you. To London. I’m not going.”

“You can’t-”

“My fr-” Neil cut himself off. Andrew was not just his friend, but neither was he his boyfriend. Neither word came close to what Andrew was to him. “Andrew almost died tonight. That is why I have been in a fucking hospital this entire time. So no, I’m not going to London with you, not tonight, maybe not ever.”

“But your mother is in London,” Stuart said, like Neil didn’t know that already, hadn’t agonized over that fact the entire afternoon, anger in the very set of his shoulders. 

“And you had no right,” Neil all but spat at him. He didn’t care if he was making a scene. “You had no right to send her there. You have no right to drag me there.”

“And what if I do?” Stuart asked. “Force you. I am one of your legal guardians.”

“Then I will run away,” Neil said, spotting Aaron and Kevin as they appeared from the direction of the cafeteria, hot drinks in their hands. He fought to keep his voice at a semi-reasonable level and failed. “You know I will. You know I can. I am almost eighteen, but it doesn't matter. No matter how many times you try, you will not be able to keep me from here. From him.” 

And then, finally, Stuart looked at him. Really looked at him. 

Something in his gaze clicked, locked into place, softened. Neil wanted to look away from him, but he didn’t. 

“I’m sorry,” Stuart said, after a lifetime, and he sounded like he meant it. “I am, but I accepted a job, and I bought a flat, and paid for doctors.” Neil’s heart sunk into his wrists, his fingertips. “These things can’t just be undone, Abram.” 

Neil opened his mouth to protest, but Staurt held up a hand to stop him. 

“Listen,” he said. “Why don’t we make a deal?”

Neil didn’t say anything, crossing his arms over his chest like he could press his heart into submission. 

“You come to London for now- hear me out- just until we can find you something else for you here.” Stuart looked hopeful. Neil wanted so badly to say no. “I can’t just leave you alone, Abram,” Stuart said. “I am not your father.” He paused. “And I am not my sister.” 

Neil thought about it, wavered. 

Finally, after examining it from every angle, he nodded. 

“Fine,” he said, and Staurt smiled, ever so slightly. A Hatford smile. “But two weeks, at most.”

“We can try,” Stuart promised. 

“And let me say goodbye.” God, Neil hated that word. He hated it so much. “Let me explain.” 

“Of course,” Stuart said. Neil was turning away before he even started speaking. 

He walked right past Renee and Nicky, who was awake and gaping at him again. He barely spared Aaron and Kevin a glance, brushing past them and taking the stairs. 

He knocked on the door before entering. 

“Andrew?” he said, softly, but Andrew was already awake, fixing his eyes on the opening door. “Hi,” Neil whispered, coming back to sit in the chair pulled up to the bedside. 

“You left,” Andrew whispered back.

It felt like a stab to the chest.

“I’m sorry,” Neil said, reaching out to intertwine their pinkies again. Andrew let him, reaching back. 

“You keep leaving,” Andrew said, the pain meds making him more truthful, less hidden. It made Neil want to lock the door and wait until he was sober, until he was himself again, until he could once again share what he wanted and keep what he wanted to himself

“I have to leave once more, I’m afraid,” Neil said. Andrew tightened his grip in Neil’s finger. 

“They always leave,” Andrew murmured, mostly to himself. “Everyone always leaves, eventually.” 

Neil, once again, could not breathe. 

“I’m coming back,” Neil said, willing Andrew to believe him. Needing Andrew to believe him. “I’m coming back for you, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Andrew countered. 

“I’m coming back,” Neil insisted, as much for himself as for Andrew. 

Andrew fixed his eyes on Neil’s, his expression steely. “Then you'd better fucking come back.”

“I will,” said Neil, wanting to hold Andrew’s hand fully in his own, wanting to press his lips to Andrew’s knuckles. He didn’t. He didn’t take more than he was given. “I will.”

_ Wait for me, _ he wanted to say. He didn’t. 

“You’re amazing,” he said instead, his voice reverant. “You know that?”

Andrew looked at him, his eyes drifting shut again, sleep beckoning again, taking him away from Neil again, even as Neil walked away from him. 

“Don’t say goodbye and mean it,” Andrew whispered, and let his eyes close fully. 

Neil gave himself a few moments, counting to ten in every language he knew, memorising the planes and dips of Andrew’s face. Then he forced himself to stand, to take his pinky back, to walk out and away and alone. 

_ Wait for me, _ he thought.  _ This is not my goodbye. _


	9. prom·ise  /ˈpräməs/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phone call

“Andrew?”

“Neil.”

“You’re awake, oh my god.”

“Did I dream you?”

“...what?”

“You’re in London.”

“I am.”

“Did I dream you? In the hospital. I thought you were there.”

“Oh. Oh, Drew. No, you didn’t. I was there, but you were only half awake.”

“I thought you were a side effect of the drugs.”

“I am not a hallucination.”

“You are a pipe dream.”

“...can you remember most of it?”

“Always.”

“Do you remember what I said?”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming back, Andrew.”

“You promised.”

“I did.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I miss you.”

...

“I miss you, too.”


	10. door /dôr/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat! A hello and a hello again! Fire works!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys this is it. This is the end. The closing. 
> 
> I cannot express how thankful I am to all of you who have read this fic and loved it and commented on it. Thank you. Thank you a million times. I love all of you, and your support means the world to me. <3
> 
> No tw for this chapter if i'm not mistaken.
> 
> Kay I tried the end notes one last time. It still doesn't work, i'm very sad. It's fine.
> 
> Anyways, thank you again. I hope at least one part of this fic made you smile. :)
> 
> As always, tell me all your thinks and feelings, i'm always, always curious. <3333333
> 
> Also come yell at me on tumblr, my username is the same, and I'm terribly sorry if my blog is boring bc I just started it and I have no idea what i'm doing. It's a fun time.

Andrew leaned out the door and started to press the doorbell as many times as he could, as was tradition. Right on cue, there was a crash and a slew of increasingly creative curses from upstairs as Aaron fought to get his life together.

“Andrew!” he shouted down the stairs. “Cease and desist!” 

“What’s the magic word?” Andrew called back, still ringing the doorbell.

“Fuck you,” Aaron said, flinging the door wider open, glaring at Andrew like he could kill him with just his eyes.

Andrew let his amusement play around his mouth, just barely turning it into a tiny smirk. “Not even close,” he said, but he removed his finger from the doorbell. 

“You are the worst,” Aaron muttered, stepping fully out of the house and locking the door behind him. “The bane of my existence.”

“That’s my purpose in life,” Andrew replied, taking his keys out of his pocket and flipping them in the air, before leading the way to his brand new Maserati. “To torment you.”

Aaron let out a long suffering sigh that almost made Andrew want to laugh. Almost.

Technically, the car was both of theirs, a gift from their uncle, Luther, Nicky’s dad, but Andrew was the one who used it the most. Aaron thought it was insensitive, like Luther had tried to replace their mother with a car; Andrew thought it was better than their mother could have ever been. So. 

It had been two months since the accident. Two months since Aaron and Andrew, newly eighteen, were left to live on their own. Andrew counted that as a win. 

Two months since Neil had left for London. 

He had tried to come back. Though countless, expensive international phone calls, Andrew and Neil had fought to hold onto each other, but Neil’s two week promise had turned into four weeks, then a month, then two months.

But now. Now it was New Year’s Eve. 

It was New Year’s Eve, and Neil was coming home. 

Andrew was. Well Andrew was almost falling apart. There was this shivery, hopeful, almost terrified feeling that had taken root in his chest, like cornflowers in the wind, Andrew he didn’t know what to do with it, how to push it away, how to bury it, so he didn’t.

“Um, Andrew?” Aaron said, and Andrew looked up from their crack sidewalk. “There’s a cat on our car.”

There was indeed a cat on their car. 

It was a monstrous orange thing, with one ear missing and a large scar on its face, but otherwise its fur was full and healthy. It looked perfectly content just sitting on the hood of the car, like it belonged there. 

“Should I scare it away?” Aaron asked, already stepping forward, but Andrew’s hand shot out to stop him. 

He approached it slowly, holding out a hand for it to sniff and hoping to god that it would bite him. 

It didn’t. 

In fact, as soon as it opened its eyes and saw his offered hand, it started purring in earnest, perking up to meet Andrew’s hand and bump its head into his palm. 

“Bastard,” Andrew murmured, reaching out to scoop the giant ball of orange fluff into his arms. “This is not where you belong.” The cat chirped in agreement. 

Andrew was actually ninety eight percent sure he knew where the cat belonged. Someone had just moved into the house next to them, and he had spotted it occasionally in the windows. 

He ignored Aaron’s protests and he took the cat up to their neighbor’s door and rang the door, only once. 

After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a woman that was only slightly taller than Andrew, even when he was standing a step below her. She had greying hair and laugh lines etched into her face, and she was wearing a pale yellow sweater with a little bumblebee pin over her heart. 

“Oh, hello,” she said upon spotting him, smiling warmly. “I see you’ve found Honey.” As she was talking the cat leaned out of Andrew’s arms and bolted past the woman’s ankles and into the house. She laughed softly, and it sounded like sunlight. “I’m so sorry, was he in your yard?”

“On my car,” Andrew said, slightly off balance, though he didn’t know why. “And it’s fine.” 

The woman’s eyes skipped past Andrew to where he assumed Aaron was standing behind him. “You boys live next door, don’t you?”

Andrew nodded, and the woman smiled again, holding out a hand. Andrew decided he quite liked her smile, it was so genuine. 

“My name is Betsy Dobson,” she said. “You can call me whatever you like. Ms. Dobson or Besty or even ‘hey you’, I’ll answer to almost anything.”

Andrew, for some reason, accepted her hand shake. 

“Andrew,” he replied, feeling Aaron staring holes in the back of his head. “And that’s my brother, Aaron.” 

“Well it’s very nice to meet both of you,” she said, and it sounded like she meant it. “And thank you so much for returning my cat.”

Andrew nodded again. 

“I actually have cookie’s in the oven right now,” Betsy said. “You’re welcome to come in and have some.” 

Now that she mentioned it, Andrew could smell the intoxicating scent of fresh chocolate chip cookies. They smelled heavenly.

“We have somewhere to be,” Andrew said, almost regretfully. “But thank you.”

“Of course,” Betsy said. “Don’t let me keep you. And thank you again.” 

Andrew found himself returning her little wave as they turned away, and he stared at his hand for a good three seconds before dismissing it and walking back to their car. Aaron raised an eyebrow at him as they got in the car, which he ignored completely. 

Halfway to Allison’s house, Aaron’s phone started ringing, and after answering, he put it on speaker.

“Andrew,” Kevin’s irritated voice said. “Where in the heck are you?”

“Heck?” Andrew replied. “What are you, five?” 

“Where in the hell are you?” Kevin amended. “And fuck you.”

“Better,” Andrew said, turning onto Allison’s road. “And did it ever occur to you that this might be Aaron’s fault, not mine?” 

“Because everything is always your fault,” Kevin replied.

“Untrue.”

“And Aaron is definitely more responsible.” 

“Excuse you,” Andrew said, and Aaron snickered. “You’re right, but still.” 

“Just hurry up. Are you almost here?”

“We just walked out the door, Kevin,” Andrew replied as they pulled into Allison’s driveway. “Who do you think we are.”

“Oh my god-” Kevin said, but Andrew grabbed Aaron’s phone as soon as he put the car in park and hung up on him, cutting him off.

“I was using that,” Aaron protested, but Andrew was already getting out of the car and walking to the porch.

He wondered if Neil was there yet. He wondered if the tight feeling in his chest was imagined or real, like a string tightening as he walked to the front door and let himself in, no doorbells. 

Renee and her mom were supposed to pick Neil up from the airport, as he would be staying with them for the time being. Andrew hadn't seen Renee’s car, but that didn’t mean anything. 

The house was mostly empty, there wasn't a giant party this time, just their group. Andrew could hear voices coming floating through the house, and he followed them all the way through to the open sliding glass door letting the unnaturally warm breeze in. 

No one saw Andrew and Aaron arrive. 

Andrew could see Jeremy and Jean, talking to Alvarez and Laila near where Matt, Dan, and Nicky were laughing at something Kevin said. Next to them, close to the edge of the pool, Andrew saw Allison’s perfectly curled blonde hair and sparkly gold dress, then he saw Renee next to her, the tips of her hair dipped in gold to match Allison, and then finally, finally he found Neil. 

Neil was facing away from him, the light from the pool outlining his red hair with a halo of blue, and Andrew suddenly couldn’t stand the space between them. He slipped around the other’s silently, leaving Aaron behind him with Kevin and Nicky, his heartbeat tripping over itself in his veins. Only Renee spotted him, smiling softly as he came up behind Neil. 

“And it’s not nearly as sunny as here,” Neil was saying to Allison. If Andrew wasn’t mistaken, he had just the slightest British accent. It almost stopped him in his tracks. “The food is really bland too, it’s horrific. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, Alli, London is not as good as here.”

“God, I hope not,” Andrew said, before Allison could reply, and Neil froze.

Andrew was about to say something else, when Neil turned around so fast that he slipped, and he was about two second from falling in Allison’s pool,  _ again, _ but that time Andrew was fast enough. He reached out just in time to grab Neil’s sleeve, and then his arm, and then he was pulling Neil away from the edge, back to him, back to solid ground. Their eyes connected and it felt so much like falling, all over again. 

"Drew," Neil whispered, and then he was surging forward, leaning his forehead on Andrew's shoulder and intertwining their hands, laughing helplessly into the crook of Andrew's neck, and Andrew never wanted to let go. 

"Hey, Bunny," he murmured into Neil's hair. Neil laughed again, messily, joyfully. Something in Andrew's bones dissipated and disappeared, lifting a weight from his body.

"What the fuck?" Allison said. "Oh my god, is this happening? Am I dead?" 

Andrew threw her a glare over Neil's head, tightening his grip, but then Neil lifted his head and Andrew was distracted again, his eyes immediately connecting with Neil's. He didn't let go of Neil's hands. 

"Hi," Neil said. 

Andrew didn't reply, there were too many people watching them, too much, too fast, and all he wanted to do was wait, watch. They had all the time in the world. At least, all the time the world would grant them. 

"I came back," Neil said, smiling. 

_ You did,  _ Andrew thought. He squeezed Neil’s hands, and Neil squeezed back, and maybe because it was New Year’s Eve, and the stars were out above them, and Neil was right in front of him, finally, Andrew said, “I missed you.” 

The smile Neil gave him in return was blinding. 

“I missed you too,” he said. 

"Okay seriously, is no one seeing this?" Andrew looked over at Allison just in time to see her shake off Renee's warning hand. "No, I cannot be the only one who is confused right now. I thought you hated each other?" 

"I do hate him," Andrew said flatly, and Neil snorted. 

“No,” Allison said again, like they weren’t understanding her. “Literally the first encounter you had involved Andrew almost breaking Neil’s arm.” 

“That was my fault,” Neil said, at the same time that Andrew said, “That was unintentional.”

“Neil,” Allison said, turning to him. The others were starting to gather around them. Andrew let go of one of Neil’s hands, holding onto the other. “You gave Andrew a bloody nose.”

“Another accident,” Neil said. 

“And then you  _ kept antagonizing him, _ ” Allison said, ignoring him. “I actually thought he was going to stab you at times.” 

“So did I,” Matt admitted. “Once or twice.” 

“I still might,” Andrew said. Several people gave him concerned looks. 

“You  _ were _ constantly yelling at each other,” Jeremy said, at the edge of the group. 

“And Andrew did push Neil into the pool,” Laila added. 

“And-” 

“Okay first of all,” Neil said, cutting Allison off. “We do not have to explain ourselves to any of you.” That shut everyone up. Neil’s voice had changed, his smile slipping off and his hand gripping Andrew’s like it was a life line. “The fact you never thought to ask us about us is your fault, not ours. Just because we don’t act like you think we should to justify us holding hands, doesn’t mean we can’t do it. Just because we do not fit the picture frame of what you think “dating” should be, does not mean we are not allowed to, and it does not automatically mean we hate each other. You call Andrew a monster, and me oblivious, and I think really, those are words that you tried to shove us into because you didn’t want to try to understand our side of things. You didn’t want to try to understand us.” 

Silence reigned. Andrew could hear the soft slap of the water against the side of the pool. 

“You’re right,” Jeremy said finally, softly. “That was shitty of us to say. I’m sorry.” 

Neil nodded stiffly at him. 

Andrew could not take his eyes off of Neil. Something too close to pride was clawing its way up his throat, making a home on his shoulders, and he didn’t even try to shake it off.

“I’m sorry, Neil,” Allison said, and that was perhaps the most genuine Andrew had ever heard her sound. 

“I forgive you,” Neil said, softly. Then, louder, “Now, excuse us, we're going to go inside.” Neil started to back up, out of the circle of their friends, and Andrew let him lead them to the doors and inside, unable to do anything but follow. 

Something like awe filled his lungs, his chest, his veins, all the way to his fingertips. He remembered with a sudden, startling clarity, that he had kissed Neil for over two months, he had not had him close enough to pull in and feel his pulse, and he suddenly needed to remind himself that Neil was real. 

As soon as they were completely out of sight of curious eyes, Andrew tugged on Neil’s hand to turn him around and proceeded to crowd him up against the nearest wall, drinking in Neil’s soft laugh, his little sigh, his closeness. 

“Yes,” Neil said, smiling, before Andrew could even ask. 

“Fucking junkie,” Andrew said, before leaning in to kiss that smug smile off his face, and it felt like he was the one coming home, not Neil. 

Later, they would rejoin the others, and Aaron would come up to Andrew and say  _ I see it now. I’m sorry I didn’t before. _ And Andrew would reply with  _ fuck off, _ but it would mean something. 

Later, Renee would give Andrew a late Christmas present, and he would open the box to find a newly embroidered pair of armbands inside, this time with cornflowers and little white chrysanthemums embroidered around the inside cuffs. 

Later, they would sneak away again, as the others are setting off fireworks, all the way out to Andrew’s car, and they would kiss as the clock in Andrew’s car strikes twelve, bottle rockets exploding above them. Andrew would press the extra key to his house in Neil’s palm and say  _ just in case,  _ and Neil would smile at him like Andrew just gave him the whole world. He may as well have. 

Later, they would drive away into the night with the music just a little too loud, and the window rolled down even though it’s just a little too cold, and Andrew would reach over the center consul and take Neil's hand in his own, knowing that he never has to let go again, not really, not fully. 

But that’s later. 

Now, in the darkness of one of the many corridors of Allison’s labyrinth of a house, Andrew held Neil’s face in his hands, pressed his fingers to Neil’s hip, and he kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and for once, he was not terrified that he was going to lose him as soon as he opened his eyes. 

Somewhere, in the very depths of Andrew’s mind, a door swung open, silently, carefully, and Andrew let it. 

Somewhere, in the very depth of his mind, a door swung open, and he didn’t need to close it, he didn’t need a key, because instead of dragging him into a memory, it let him out. 

Somewhere, in the very depths of his mind, a door swung open, and Andrew stepped through, out, and into a garden. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay i'm trying the end notes one last time. If this doesn't work, i'm gonna be very sad.
> 
> Thank you again. I hope at least one part of this fic made you smile. :)
> 
> As always, tell me all your thinks and feelings, i'm always, always curious. <3333333
> 
> Also come yell at me on tumblr, my username is the same, and I'm terribly sorry if my blog is boring bc I just started it and I have no idea what i'm doing. It's a fun time.

**Author's Note:**

> Andrew, to Andrew: must not talk to the new kid, must not look at the new kid, must not have any feelings ever, otherwise we might get attached, and we can't have that  
> Neil: does anything  
> Andrew: immediately pays way too mush attention  
> Andrew, to Andrew: see this is exactly what we Do Not want to happen 
> 
> let me know what you thought, i'm always curious :)


End file.
